


Flickers

by Dusty87



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Crossover, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Happy Ending, Love, Retelling, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29268315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty87/pseuds/Dusty87
Summary: Sunnydale has fallen and Buffy is trying to move on, but then Spike's back. Almost.*This story is set directly after the S7 Buffy finale and picks up when Spike comes out of the amulet on Angel S5. Think AtS S5 from a more Buffy perspective.*
Relationships: Spike & Buffy Summers, Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 59
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

One hundred and forty seven days.

How had he done it? He’d been unabashedly in love with her and he’d survived her death for one hundred and forty seven days.

How was it that the eighteen days since Sunnydale had fallen into fire felt more like a hundred?

Buffy tossed in her bed. Her big, empty bed.

Was it really only nineteen days ago that she’d slept in his arms and finally felt peace, knowing they’d beat The First, knowing he and she were right where they were supposed to be? Knowing the future was alive with potential? Maybe, just maybe they could have something real?

For the first day after, she’d hardly said anything. Everyone around her was buzzing with questions and possibilities about the future. For Buffy, that possibility, that conversation she’d have "after" was dust.

 _“No, you don’t,”_ he’d said.

_“No, you don’t.”_

_“No, you_ don’t _.”_

Why did he say that? Was he right?

Spike was always right. When he wasn’t busy being an idiot.

He must have been right though. He was usually right about her. And about love. He knew about that. More than she did anyway.

_Was he right?_

It was all she could think of as the bus bumped along, leaving him and Sunnydale forever. It was all she could think of as she’d laid in bed beside Dawn’s sleeping form, staring at the ceiling of their motel room. It was all she could think of as they’d boarded the plane to England last week. It was all she could think of when everyone asked her over and over and _over_ again, “What are we going to do now, Buffy? What are we going to _do_?”

_“No, you don’t.”_

_“No, you don’t.”_

_“No, you don’t.”_

If he was right, why did she feel like this?

If he was right, why had she said it at all?

If he was right, how would she ever love _anyone_?

Buffy groaned and hugged the pillow tighter as one rebellious tear darted down her cheek.

Maybe if she'd given their relationship this much thought before he'd perished, things could have been different.

He had to have been right. This couldn’t be love. This thing that had so brutally scarred her hand and scarred her brain, replaying every moment they’d ever shared.

_“I love what you are, what you do, how you try.”_

That sounded a little like love to her, but what did she know?

_“You’re the one, Buffy.”_

Another pesky tear fell and Buffy smothered her face in her pillow, angry with herself and her own traitorous feelings. Angry that her grief was relegated to the shadows and behind closed bedroom doors.

She _was_ the one.

The one to sacrifice any man who made her feel anything. To save the world. To stand alone.

Why did someone good always have to die to save the world?

How much more could she possibly sacrifice and still remain standing?

How had this torment still only lasted eighteen days?

*****

“Don’t you think Giles’ house looks like something out of Pride and Prejudice?” Dawn said cheerily over breakfast the next morning. “The floorboards are all creaky, fireplaces in every room, and there are sheep, actual sheep, walking around out there in the fields.”

Buffy nodded with a half smile and sipped her coffee, wondering if Dawn had even read such a thing as Pride and Prejudice. Buffy certainly hadn’t.

“Suburbia is majorly overrated. No sheep or horses or anything other than creepers popping out of graves in Sunnydale.”

_“No, you don’t.”_

It jarred her how often those words grabbed her.

“Orange juice?” Willow said, holding up a pitcher with wide, expectant eyes.

Buffy shook her head and sipped her coffee again.

“A bit more rain here than California, though, I’ll concede,” Giles said, eyeing the dripping window panes.

“You all right, Buffster?” Xander said, sitting across the table from her. “Kind of expected you to be a bit more chipper about the explosion of the slayer population and the no more ‘one girl in all the world’ thing.”

Giles leaned against the door frame of the dining room at that, pausing to hear her answer.

“I am,” Buffy said indignantly. “Chipper. The chippiest. I just have a lot on my mind. There’s so much we could do now. The world’s so big. I don’t know where to start. With the doing. It’s all a little overwhelming.”

“Well, I think shaking up this sham of a Watchers Council is a pretty good place to start,” Willow said. “After that, we can make things however we want them to be. This opportunity is just amazing, once in a lifetime. We’ve changed the course of _history_. That is no teensy thing.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. “Make things however we want them to be. Just gotta figure out what that is.”

Giles was studying his slayer thoughtfully.

“You’ve also earned your due rest, Buffy. We all know what the past few months have been like for you.”

_“No, you don’t.”_

“No, you don’t,” Buffy said softly, looking startled when the words actually escaped her lips. “Sorry, I—”

Giles looked at her sympathetically, “No, you’re quite right. We don’t really. Which is why we don’t know what you need right now. How you’re feeling. If you’re… unhappy… about anything.”

Buffy looked into his eyes and knew he saw the sadness she was trying to hide.

“Unhappy?” Willow repeated, looking concerned and puzzled.

“I’m not unhappy,” Buffy said, standing up and gathering some dirty plates. “I’m great. I am very happy to not be the one. I don’t _want_ to be the one. Doneso with the uno.”

_“You’re the one, Buffy.”_

Giles took the dirty plates from her hands, “Well, we have an appointment with the council this afternoon if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Of course. I will be there. Give them a piece of my mind for how they’ve run this circus show for the past— whatever,” she gestured with one hand. “Why wouldn’t I feel up to that?”

Giles shook his head, “No reason.”

“Well, alrighty then,” she said, exiting the room and leaving bewildered stares in her wake. 

*****

It was no wonder Giles had scoffed at the Sunnydale High library. His own was stacked from floor to ceiling along three cherry wood walls with beautiful leather-bound books, a fireplace in the center of the main wall. The wall across from that was all windows. It was cozy. Buffy didn’t read much, but she supposed if she did, it would be nice to do in a room like this.

_“No, you don’t.”_

She had curled up on the sofa facing the windows, watching the rain pour, clutching her freshly poured coffee, thinking and trying not to think.

“May I join you?”

She looked up to see Giles in the doorway.

“Of course you can. It is your house,” Buffy said, sitting up a little straighter.

Giles smiled and sat down beside her. They drifted in the silence together for a moment.

_“No, you don’t.”_

Would the echo never pass?

“This used to be my favorite place in the world,” Giles said eventually. “Did all my studying in this room when I decided to be a watcher. For school before that.”

“You grew up here?”

“It’s a family home. It’s been passed down for five generations now.”

Buffy smiled, “That sounds nice.”

“Lots of memories,” Giles nodded. “To be honest, it’s a little strange having you all here. My separate worlds are colliding.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine you anywhere but Sunnydale. I always thought your accent was a little strange for California though.”

Giles chuckled and looked at her fondly, his expression turning serious, “I’m worried about you, Buffy.”

Buffy grimaced and looked toward the window, “You don’t have to worry. I’m okay.”

“Yes, you keep saying that. However, it’s been more than two weeks since everything occurred and,” he paused. “I believe a part of you is still in Sunnydale.”

She looked surprised, turning back to face him, “What does that mean?”

“It’s okay to mourn him, Buffy. It would be right even. Earned,” he ventured hesitantly.

Buffy opened and closed her mouth but couldn’t make the words come. Like her body was suddenly refusing oxygen.

“I made a lot of mistakes this year,” Giles said slowly, removing his glasses and wiping the lenses rhythmically. “Not trusting you being the greatest one. I conflated my distrust of him with your judgement and I never should have done that. I don’t know if anything would be different now had I acted properly, but I never did apologize to you. And I am very sorry, Buffy.”

“Thanks,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

“I noticed you spending much of your time together toward the end and, well your partnership was always visible, but I can’t help asking if—”

_“No, you don’t.”_

“Giles, I— I don’t think I want to talk about this.”

Giles looked taken aback, but he recovered quickly, “Of course. Perhaps later.”

He stood up and folded his arms across his chest, “Just do keep in mind what I said about possibly taking some time to rest. You’ve earned a vacation at the very least.”

“What are those?”

They smiled at one another, pushing the elephant in the room back into the corner where it belonged.

*****

That night, Buffy was feeling as listless as ever after their meeting with the Watchers Council. She had gone, shown some strength and said her snarky piece, and left the rest to GIles and Willow who seemed much more passionate about the future direction of the Council. It wasn’t that she didn’t care. She knew she did, somewhere inside her. She just didn’t care right now.

_“No, you don’t.”_

Buffy started to get dressed for bed, but paused. The thought of tossing and turning another night away was not appealing. Abruptly, she turned around and headed down the stairs and out the front door before anyone could notice or say anything to her.

It was still raining. And very dark out in the countryside.

She practically stomped down the dirt road. She could hardly pretend she was patrolling. She had no idea where the closest cemetery even was. And wow, Giles’ driveway was longer than Revello Drive. No, this was not patrolling, just a walk. Normal not-the-one people did that.

Her hair was soon soaked and matted to the sides of her face. She liked the dark. It felt like the right place for her. She liked the rain, too. Her tears could slip out, unnoticed even by her, in the rain.

Eventually she reached the end of the driveway. She looked left and right, seeing no distinguishable difference in the paths, just rolling hills, but even that decision felt like too much right now. So she just stood, refusing to choose any direction at all. Stuck.

That’s when she saw him.

How many times had Buffy seen that white skin in the darkness, appearing by her side as if from nowhere?

He looked as startled as her to be standing there.

“Spike?” she said, sounding very small in the downpour.

She hadn’t said his name in nineteen days. It felt good to say it.

Spike looked confused and nodded toward her, “You’re soppin’ wet.”

“Spike?” she repeated, sounding desperate this time.

“Buffy.” 

He said her name so full of hope and wonder, his eyes emoting in one second more than she’d ever given him in all of knowing him, and her heart ached.

He looked scared. And dry.

He began to fade and flicker, but he reached toward her. His lifeline. She’d always save him.

Buffy reached her hand toward his but before she could touch him, he was gone.

She stood there, panting, turning wildly and looking all around.

“Spike!” she screamed into the rain.

But there was nothing and no one around but darkness. He was gone. 

Buffy stood there stunned, trying to process the unprocessable. Spike was dead. Spike was dead and now she was seeing things. Giles was right. She needed a vacation. 

She closed her eyes, hugged her arms tight, and finally let herself cry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue borrowed from Angel in this chapter.

Buffy had walked back to the house like she was in a trance, shaking and stumbling the whole way. She hadn’t felt the cold before but suddenly she was freezing. She knew she hadn’t been eating much, but was that enough to make her see things?

She sniffed and pulled the front door open, cringing at the awful middle-of-the-night, are-you-always-this-loud? creak. She closed it behind her, listening for the other inhabitants. She breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t hear anyone.

“Is everything okay?”

Buffy jumped and placed a hand on her heart, breathing rapidly.

“Dawn,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “You scared me.”

Dawn stood, arms crossed and in her pajamas, in the archway that led to the living room, or parlor. Buffy wasn’t sure what exactly Giles called all the rooms in his fancy house.

“I heard you leave,” she said. “I was worried. Did something happen? God, you’re drenched.”

Buffy rubbed her hands up and down her arms, shaking her head, “Nothing happened.”

Dawn furrowed her brow in suspicion when Buffy’s voice cracked.

“Buffy, you are clearly not okay. Come on, I made a fire.”

Buffy looked at her sister helplessly and followed her into the living room, too tired to fight. Dawn turned around and peeled Buffy’s wet jacket off for her, treating her like a deer who might skitter away into the night at any moment. Sometimes her sister was so kind. Maternal. Not like Buffy.

“You’re shaking,” Dawn said softly, her eyes big and gentle.

Buffy met her eyes, feeling wounded and small. She sat down on the rug, as close to the fire as she could manage, holding one hand close to the flames, remembering the burn of when it had caught fire in Spike’s grip.

_“No, you don’t.”_

“I’m majorly wigging, Dawn,” Buffy finally admitted, tears in her eyes.

It was easier to watch the flames and not see her sister’s reaction to her words.

“I think I’m seeing things.”

“What kind of things?” Dawn prodded gently when Buffy didn’t go on.

“I don’t know,” Buffy said, hesitating. “Ghosts maybe.”

“This definitely seems like the kind of house that would be haunted. Giles probably had a crazy aunt or two, right?”

“No,” Buffy said instantly. “No, not like that.”

Dawn waited. A quiet moment passed.

“Can you keep a secret?” Buffy finally asked.

“I’m your sister, dufus, of course I can.”

Buffy looked at her and managed a small smile.

“I saw… Spike. Out there. In the rain. He, um, he talked to me. A little.”

Dawn’s eyes widened, “You saw the ghost of Spike? Spike is haunting you?”

“No— I, maybe. I don’t know! It just happened. I don’t know what to make of it. It seemed so real. He seemed so real…”

“Can vampires _be_ ghosts? Ghost vampires? That would be a whole new level of slaying. How do you stake a ghost?”

Buffy looked at her sister, “We’re not talking about _any old vampire_ , Dawn. It was Spike.”

“I know. I know,” Dawn said, her face turning solemn. “How does ghost stuff even work? Is it possible for him to be back? Like, really back?”

“He’s not back,” Buffy said instantly.

It was a thought she couldn’t entertain. Hope was something she wouldn’t allow right now. That might actually break her.

“Okay, but what are your choices here? Either Spike’s back, in some capacity, or what, you’ve gone all Shyamalan on us?”

Buffy looked at her, but said nothing.

“I hope he’s back,” Dawn said. “I never got to… say things to him. That I wish I’d said.”

“Yeah,” Buffy whispered.

_“No, you don’t.”_

“We can ask Giles and Willow to do some research in the morning.”

“No. No, I don’t think— I don’t want anyone to know.”

Dawn’s forehead crinkled, “What? Why? Buffy, what if they can bring him back?”

“What if he doesn’t want to be back?” Buffy snapped.

Dawn relaxed, understanding sinking in, “Buffy, it’s not like that. Spike’s not you. He’s not being rewarded for his century of murder and mayhem. What if he’s trapped somewhere horrible?”

“What if he’s not? He did save the world.”

“You never appeared to us,” Dawn said practically, excitedly. “This is different. It has to be. Maybe he’s trying to get back.”

“He didn’t seem like he was trying to _do_ anything. He looked just as confused as I was.”

“Did he say anything?”

Buffy shrugged, “Not really. Just said I looked wet.”

Dawn rolled her eyes, “Well, that’s helpful. Thanks for the insight, Ghost Spike.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Buffy’s mouth.

“I still think we should tell the others. They could help figure out what’s going on.”

Buffy ran her fingers through her wet hair, picking at her tangles.

“I know it sounds stupid, Dawn, but I feel like… I just don’t trust them with this.”

Dawn grimaced, “Okay. I get that. But if you see him again... I don’t know. We have to do something, Buffy.”

“There’s always the very real possibility that I’ve finally lost it.”

“I don’t think so,” Dawn said, touching Buffy’s arm. “Spike loved you. If he was going to come back, it would be to you.”

Buffy looked back to the fire.

_“No, you dont.”_

Would he come back to her?

*****

Spike gasped and reached to grab onto something, finding himself once again in the Wolfram and Hart laboratory, under the careful scrutiny of the cute brunette and Angel’s gang of misfits. He quickly felt along the sleeves of his leather coat. They were dry. It hadn’t been real. Or was he the one not real? Bloody hell, he didn’t know.

“Where'd you go?” someone said.

He couldn’t say. He was already walking through desks, disappearing, better to not tell them he was now teleporting through time, too. It had been night wherever Buffy was.

“Don't you know?” asked Fred.

“I'm—I was…” Spike stammered and then turned to Angel. “You! This is your fault.”

“Mine?” Angel said incredulously.

“You brought that bloody amulet to Sunnydale! You would have been the one to use it, until you chickened out.”

“What did you—”

“You heard me! You left town in the nick of time, didn't you, before the death and mayhem? Abandoned the woman you claimed to love.”

Angel pointed his finger, “She made the call. Wasn't my choice.”

Spike was humming with rage.

“And _this_ , bloody hell, wasn't mine. I'm not you. I don't give a piss about atonement or destiny. Just because I got me a soul doesn't mean I'm gonna let myself be led around by—”

“E-excuse me?” said Fred.

Wesley stepped forward, glancing from Spike to Angel, “Did—did you just say— Spike has a soul? You never said.”

Angel shrugged, “Didn't seem worth mentioning, you know.”

“Seems to be a lot of that,” grumbled Gunn.

Spike felt himself getting louder and more boisterous as his righteous rage grew, “Or maybe Captain Forehead was feeling a little less special. Didn't like me crashing his exclusive club—another vampire with a soul in the world.”

“You're not in the world… Casper.”

Angel turned and walked away and Spike felt his face fall.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go down. He’d made his bloody heroic exit. He deserved to go out in a flame of glory, the last face he’d seen the most beautiful in all the world. Everything had been right. A better death than he’d ever dreamed of.

Angel always ruined everything.

Spike wanted to smash all the windows of this ridiculous law firm, but he had more important things to work out.

He had to find his way back to Buffy.

*****

Spike stood at the edge of the shadows in the parking garage beneath Angel’s corporate ivory tower. That Los Angeles sun was blindingly bright. Hesitantly, oh so hesitantly, he reached his hand into the light, expecting the sizzle of UV on his skin.

When he felt nothing, he cackled wildly and jumped into the light, dancing about with glee.

“Take that, sodding powers that _aren’t_ ,” he shouted up to the sun.

Spike rubbed his hands together thoughtfully, “Now I bet Angel’s got a few sweet rides with his new corporate gig.”

*****

Every blasted time.

He’d hit the highway, and then poof, back to Wolfram and Hell.

He had to stop. At the very least because he was running out of vehicles and he’d wasted the entire afternoon trying to escape.

This godawful place wasn’t where he belonged. Everything here was clean and orderly. Scientists with microscopes. Machines that went beep. Mailrooms and copiers. Ties and briefcases. Corner offices. Secretaries. Harmony. It all made him sick. He stalked through the halls, hugging his leather coat tight against him, a shield from all the horrific stodginess infecting the air.

Spike charged into Angel’s office in a huff.

Angel groaned, “What is your problem now?”

“You are, you ponce! You're my problem. You got it too good. You're king of a thirty floor castle, with all the cars, comfort, power, and glory you could ever want, and here I save the world, throw myself onto the proverbial hand grenade for love, honor, and all the right reasons, and what do I get? Bloody well toasted and ghosted is what I get, isn't it? It's not fair.”

“Fair?! You asked for a soul. I didn't! It almost killed me. I spent a hundred years trying to come to terms with infinite remorse. You spent 3 weeks moaning in a basement, and then you were fine! What's fair about that?!”

Spike thought about the basement, how lost he’d been then. He was only fine because she’d pulled him out.

“Are you getting blurry, or is it—”

Spike flickered away and Angel sighed, sitting back down at his desk.

*****

She was asleep when he appeared suddenly by her side. The morning light was just beginning to glow through her window.

“Oh, Buffy,” he breathed, reaching for her and watching his hand pass right through her shoulder.

Buffy squirmed in her sleep, twitching her nose and scrunching her forehead.

Spike watched her reverently for a moment, seeing her features relax once more. Her sleeping face was precious to him. Until recently, she’d only slept near him by accident. Part of her had always treated him like the enemy, even when she was shagging his brains out.

He looked around, noting the old-fashioned four poster bed, the stone fireplace, dark cherry wood wardrobe in the corner. The window was covered with white lacy curtains. Wherever they were, it didn’t feel like California.

“Buffy, love, wake up. Please,” Spike said, crouching down beside the bed so his face was near hers. “I _really_ need to talk to you.”

And then something miraculous happened.

Buffy’s pretty green eyes with the gold flecks fluttered open and looked directly into his.

“Spike?” she said, blinking, voice crumpled with sleep.

Spike sighed dramatically with relief, “Bloody hell, slayer. Yes it’s me.”

Buffy stared at him, confusion etched across her face, “Am I awake?”

“You’re awake, pet,” Spike reassured her.

“Are you real?” she whispered, sitting up halfway, tugging the quilt up with her and staring at him like she didn’t trust her own eyes.

“Jury’s out on that one. I _feel_ real.”

Buffy looked skeptical and reached her hand out to rest on his chest, but her hand fell right through him. She gasped as though it had hurt.

“‘Cept for that.”

“You _are_ a ghost,” she said, frowning.

“No. The girl with the clipboard was fairly clear about that bit. Not a ghost.”

“Girl with the clipboard?”

“It’s a long bloody story, and I don’t think we have much time.”

Buffy stared at him.

“All right, guess it’s not so long. That bleedin’ amulet Angel brought us did... somethin’ and wound up back with Angel in LA. Now it’s got me trapped there, connected to it. Can’t touch anything or go anywhere. Except to you somehow.”

“You’re not dead,” she said, almost to herself.

Spike reached for her cheek, hovering an inch from it, desperately wishing he could touch her.

“Always dead, love, but still here. Some way or how. Thought a soddin' hellmouth could do _me_ in?”

He hadn’t expected… anything really. It had just been a joke after all. But he certainly hadn’t expected the tears that shot down her cheeks. She waved a hand through his chest cautiously and then swatted at him with a frustrated, tearful growl.

“I can’t believe you! You— you— Spike! Ugh! I told you I wasn’t ready for you to go. I told you how I…” she sniffed and wiped away her hot, embarrassing tears. “I just wish I could hit you in your stupid face right now!”

“Me too, pet.”

“Stop it. No you don’t. Don’t agree with me! I’m mad at you. _Very_ mad. Do you have any idea what these nineteen days have been like?”

She was tightening her hands into fists around her covers. 

Spike smiled slowly, revelation dawning, “You _missed_ me.”

“Of course I did, you idiot! It’s like you don’t even care what I said to you— before. When you— you, you know. I said— I meant what I said to you.”

He felt his heart warm and he tilted his head.

“Buffy, I—”

Spike felt the now familiar pulling of his innards and the head rush beginning as his form began to fade.

“No! Bloody hell, not now!” he shouted just before he vanished.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More borrowed dialogue from Angel.

Fred jumped when she turned on the light and found the ghostly vampire standing in her office.

“Spike! What are you— can I help you?”

“Well, that's the heart of it, isn't it? The crux. The nub.”

She looked at him expectantly, “I'm sorry?”

“You're the smart one, aren't you? The go-to girl who knows all about this ghost mumbo-jumbo.”

“Um…” she laughed. “Well, actually, Wesley's the occult expert. He—he was trained as a Watcher. He knows about the supernatur—”

Spike stepped closer to her and peered into her eyes intently, “Yeah, but you're the science queen. The hows, the what-ifs—that's your cup of tea. You figure things out in that cute little noggin of yours.”

“I guess. What... I-is there something…”

“I need to confide in you, pet. Your ears, your noggin only.”

Fred looked unsure, “All-all right I guess.”

“When I vanish on you, I’m— I’m slippin’ away to...” Spike looked away, out the window. “To Buffy.”

“Buffy? Isn’t she in Europe?”

Spike turned back to face her, “Is she now?”

“Angel mentioned it a few days ago.”

“Not to me he didn’t. Bastard.”

Fred sat down at the stool in front of her computer looking thoughtful, “If your essence is tied to the amulet, why would you be pulled to Buffy? Halfway across the world?”

Spike hugged his coat tighter around his body, shrugging and staring at the ceiling, “Don’t bloody well know, do I? That’s what I need you for. I need to— to get to her. I need— I don’t belong here in Angel’s corporate hell. I belong with— I don’t belong here.”

“Spike, you’re— stammering,” Fred said with amusement, eyeing him knowingly.

“One to talk aren’t you?” Spike snapped, rolling his eyes. “Can’t be a ghost forever, this is no way to live! You have to help me!”

“Were you and Buffy… together?”

Spike stared back at Fred and she saw the answer in his eyes.

“Is that why you don’t want Angel to know?”

“He’d be a prick and a half ‘bout it.”

Fred shook her head and laughed, “I’ve really got to meet this Buffy. Two vampires in love with the slayer.”

“Much as it comforts me to find there’s a person on this planet who _didn’t_ know I’ve been Buffy’s lapdog for years, your amusement isn’t exactly helpful right now, Dolly.”

“Right. Sorry. I— just— with all the swagger and the flirting and the... “ she looked at him with sudden realization. “Hey, you were flirting with me just so I’d help you get back to Buffy!”

“I flirt with everyone,” Spike said with a shrug. “Been here for a whole day now, and you haven’t picked up on that?”

Fred raised her brows, “Aren’t you supposed to be convincing me to help you?”

“Want me to flirt with you some more? It’d be easy enough. You’re bloody adorable.”

“No! No— _Spike_. I’ll— I’ll help you. I just feel like we should tell Angel—”

“Absolutely not,” Spike said, pointing his finger dramatically. “He thinks Buffy’s _his_. He will do everything in his power to keep me in this _hellhole_ away from her.”

“Angel wouldn’t do that. He’s a good man,” Fred protested.

Spike shook his head, “Trust me, pet. I know Angel.”

Fred looked skeptical. And torn. Slinking back against her chair in defeat.

“ _Please_. Fred, love,” Spike said, dropping to his knees before her. “I’ll beg you if I must.”

Fred looked horrified, “D— don’t do that, Spike. Get up. I told you I’d help.”

Spike didn’t move.

“Don’t tell him, dove,” Spike persisted, eyes blazing. “When he finds out later, you can say I threatened to go on a murderin’ spree. That I haunted you day ‘n night ‘til you relented. I don’t give a toss. Whatever you need to do. Just please don’t tell him ‘til you fix me.”

“Fine!” Fred threw her hands up and looked down at him. “I won’t tell anyone. But, Spike, there’s a really really real possibility that I won’t be able to fix this on my own.”

Spike stood up straight and shook his head, “Bollocks. You’re the girl for the job. I know you are. Now what do you need? Want to scan me with your do-dad some more? Wave your hand through me a bit? Need me to walk through somethin’? I’d fetch you a coffee if I could hold the bloody—”

“Some _quiet_ would be nice,” she said, crossing her arms authoritatively. 

Spike nodded and smiled coyly, “As you say, pet.”

He turned and stalked away, leather coat flapping, right through the wall.

*****

Buffy had lain in bed for two hours after Spike’s disappearance. Haunted by the ever-present “no you don’t”s and the aftershocks of seeing him again, she’d watched the room slowly brighten as the sun came up. She’d felt immobilized, as though if she were to leave this room he’d never be able to find her again.

But that was ridiculous, so eventually she pulled herself out of bed and slowly dressed herself.

Spike was back. Sort of. She had another chance. Maybe. It wasn’t perfect. Things for her never were, but maybe this was the only opportunity she’d get to tell him the things she needed to tell him. Even if in the end he disappeared again, he could go knowing the truth. Whatever that actually was. Most of the time even she wasn’t sure.

Buffy made her way to the kitchen where Willow was scrambling eggs.

“Morning, Buffy! I’m making eggs. Scrambled just the way you like. Well, it’s how Dawn likes, but you too maybe? You really should have stayed at the Council meeting yesterday. I think a bunch of them are going to step down. They don’t even know how to function when they’re _outnumbered_ by slayers,” Willow laughed to herself, pouring the eggs into the frying pan. “I mean, the looks on their faces when you told them what we did and what _Spike_ did. A vampire more devoted to good than they’ve ever been. So good. I shall henceforth replay that moment in my head any time I need a little pick-me-up!”

Buffy glanced at her as she poured coffee grounds into the black machine and pressed the brew button, “Every night I go to sleep and forget how perky and energy-tastic Willow is in the morning.”

“Sorry,” Willow smiled guiltily, stirring the eggs in the pan. “I’m just excited. I feel like we have a lot to look forward to right now. Fix the Watchers Council and we can do so much. We could teach the new slayers like we did with the potentials. Create an army of Buffys! Evil doesn’t stand a chance.”

Buffy unwrapped some bread and slipped it into the toaster, “All evil shall be toast, and I like toast.”

“Amen, sister.”

“So, Wil, what do you know about ghosts?”

Willow raised her brows with surprise, “Well, other than being one for a hot minute, not a whole super lot, just your basic ghost knowledge. Ghosts are the spirits of the deceased who can’t move on to the next plane, usually because of an unresolved problem.”

Buffy was watching the toast toast with rapt fascination, “Is there some kind of spirit that’s like a ghost but not quite?”

“Well there are vengeance spirits, apparitions, manifested spirits, good old poltergeists, the list goes on. Why are you so interested in ghosts?”

Buffy looked at Willow with her widest, most innocent eyes.

“No reason. Dawn,” she forced a laugh. “She uh, last night, we heard a noise and she made a joke about Giles’ relatives haunting us. Just got my wheels turning.”

Willow looked at Buffy strangely and nodded.

“So, speaking of Dawn…” Willow said. “I thought maybe the three of us could do a little clothes shopping later. It’s a lot of work replacing your entire wardrobe after it all burns up in a fiery pit of Hellmouth.”

Buffy’s toast popped up and she caught both pieces and dropped them on her plate, blowing on her hot fingertips, “I am so very with you there. Are there malls in England?”

“I’m sure there are malls,” Willow said, tilting her head back and forth uncertainly. “Well, there are definitely clothes in England and we’ll find them wherever those shifty Brits are keeping them.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Buffy, crunching into her toast.

*****

That afternoon, Buffy, Dawn, and Willow were browsing the aisles of a non-mall boutique shop that they’d stumbled upon after the harrowing journey of driving on the left side of the road from Giles’ house.

“Please let Willow drive on the way home, Buffy,” Dawn said longingly as they entered the shop. “I am not going to let you save the world just to then turn around and kill us all in a car crash.”

“You’re here. You’re alive. Let’s show a little gratitude,” Buffy said.

Willow looked nervous, “I’m really _really_ happy to do the driving, Buffy.”

“ _Thank you_!” Dawn said.

Buffy shrugged and made her way to the sweater section. The girls naturally spread out across the shop, each drawn to different styles and sections of clothing.

Buffy was picking through the rack, contemplating the brown versus the green, when Spike appeared by her side.

“Go with the green. Brings out your eyes.”

“Holy bajeezus,” she said, clutching her chest and glaring at him. “That is majorly freaky, you know that? Somebody could have seen you appear!”

Spike shrugged, “Not really in my control.”

“Duck your head! I don’t want Willow or Dawn to see you.”

“Oh bloody hell, Buffy, why can’t they see me?” he grumbled, but obediently crouched down behind the clothes, peering left and right conspiratorially.

Buffy stood on tiptoe and looked over the rack of clothes in front of her, seeing Dawn and Willow laughing at something together in the corner of the store.

“Come on,” she said, ushering him to follow her to the dressing room.

Buffy slipped inside, Spike dutifully following, and slammed the door shut behind them.

The room was small and Buffy felt suddenly very overwhelmed by the nearness of him within its four walls.

“Hi,” she said.

Spike grinned, “Hey yourself.”

Buffy found herself breathing rapidly. She glanced at the mirror, seeing only herself and the green sweater still clutched in her hands.

“It’s kind of hard to talk to you, knowing you could disappear at any second.”

“You’re tellin’ me. I was just talkin’ to Captain Forehead and now here I am with you. How the pendulum swings.”

“Angel. Is he— is he helping you?”

Spike scoffed and shoved his hands in his pockets, “Cold day in hell when that happens. I don’t trust that wanker. ‘Specially now he’s running a bloody law firm. You should see this place, Buffy. It’d make you sick. All the polished floors...”

“Maybe I should call him. Or go to LA.”

“It’s all right. I got a science girl on the case. She’ll fix me up.”

Buffy nodded, absently waving a hand through his arm. Spike watched her intently, amused.

“Spike, do you have some unfinished business you think? Something keeping you from passing on?”

Spike squinted at her, “Not a ghost, remember?”

“Maybe vampires just make strange ghosts?” she said, her voice high pitched with possibility. “Science can only go so far you know. Then comes magic.”

Spike sighed and looked away, into the mirror where Buffy stood wrangling the poor sweater in her hands.

“Not as though I led a purposeful life. You know that.”

Buffy raised one brow, “I know you saved the world. That’s pretty purpose-y.”

Spike hesitated, “Right, well— then, purpose bloody well served, no?”

“I just don’t know why else you’d be here,” Buffy said slowly. “With me. I mean— I’m glad you are.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Buffy smiled and was about to say more when they were interrupted.

“Buffy! You in here?” Willow asked, knocking on the door.

Buffy’s eyes widened, locked on Spike’s, “Yuh huh.”

“What did you get? Are you wearing it? We want to see!”

Buffy looked at the green sweater in her hands and back to Spike, who lifted one brow with an intrigued look on his face.

“I— I just took it off!” Buffy shouted, glaring at him. “I’ll show you the next one.”

“Boo, all right.”

Willow walked away and they both relaxed.

“Why exactly _are_ we hidin’ me from your mates?”

Buffy bit her lip and looked away.

“I— I don’t know. It’s kind of stupid. I was afraid, well, I _was_ afraid that I was losing my mind and seeing things. Still a little bit am. Then, I thought, well, I thought you were being pulled back from wherever you were supposed to be and I didn’t want them interfering in that. I want you to be... wherever you’re supposed to be.”

“Supposed to be with you I reckon.”

Buffy felt her heart flip flop when he said that, so matter of factly. His love had always been that way to him, a matter of fact.

She looked down and returned to squeezing and fidgeting with the sweater.

“Maybe _you_ are my unfinished business,” Spike said in a low voice with a hint of a smile.

Buffy froze and met his sharp eyes, “Be serious, Spike. Haven’t you and I said and done it all at this point?”

“I do recall a certain talk we’d saved for _after_.”

“After,” Buffy repeated robotically.

“You know, before we knew I’d go up in a pillar of flame.”

Buffy swallowed.

“Did it hurt? The flaming?”

Spike tilted his head at her knowingly, “Don’t change the subject, Buffy.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Bollocks you don’t,” he snapped.

Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed, looking to the mirror. He was so insistent and his stare was penetrating.

“I know what you _wanted_. You wanted to know what this is. What we are. What it means to me. I know that,” she looked back at him. “But, Spike, you’re— _this_! How can I say those things knowing at any second you might disappear on me forever? Again. I can’t _do_ that. It’s too hard.”

Spike instinctively reached for her hands and growled with frustration when he went right through her. Buffy trembled and gasped.

“I felt that,” she whispered, furrowing her brow.

“Felt what?”

“You. I felt you. I— it was cold. But I felt something.”

Spike tried to touch her again, hesitantly placing his hands at her upper arms. His hands waved through her and he looked at her, imploring.

“Nothing,” she said.

They were staring at one another, confused and desperate, when his form slowly began to fade.

“Come back to me, Spike,” Buffy said softly, feeling a weight lift off of her as she said exactly what she wanted to for once.

She saw his eyes light up and his mouth open to say something just before he disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

“I’ll always come back,” Spike uttered helplessly, Buffy’s earnest, lovely face still in his mind.

Angel glared at the other vampire, “Trust me, I noticed.”

Spike looked around, finding himself in Angel’s office beneath fluorescent lights and surrounded by wood paneling yet again.

He roared with frustration, “Sodding hell! I will never be bloody free of you, will I?!”

“You do realize _you’re_ the one haunting _me_ , right?” Angel said, leaning forward in his desk chair.

“Why didn’t you tell me Buffy was in Europe?” Spike yelled.

Angel sighed, “You’re stuck here! What does it matter?”

“It _matters_.”

“Well, Spike, _Buffy_ is in Europe,” he said with as much sarcasm and condescension as he could muster. He turned to shuffle some papers. “Now would you go away? Some of us actually have things to do.”

“Play it as casual as you like, peaches, you won’t keep me from her.”

Angel rolled his eyes, “ _I’m_ not keeping you from anything, Spike! I don’t want you here. But don’t rewrite history and act like you and Buffy were some great romance.”

“Shut your yap. You know nothin’ about me and Buffy.”

“I know you. I know Buffy. Seems like I might have a pretty good start.”

“Yeah?” Spike was practically spitting his words, pacing back and forth in front of the desk. “Then why didn’t you tell your band of merry men about us? Why didn’t you tell 'em 'bout my soul? Why do you think Buffy sent _you_ packing when she needed help the most? You’re pretendin’ to be the big, mighty man— _so above it all_ — but all you really are is a petty school girl who can’t accept your crush _doesn’t like you_ _anymore_.”

“Get out.”

“Gladly!” Spike shouted. He was halfway down the hallway when he yelled out to no one in particular, “I _hate_ this bloody place!”

*****

The girls arrived home hours later, arms full of shopping bags.

“What is this sexist discrimination in not inviting me along on the shopping trip?” Xander greeted them with. “My clothes are Sunnydale history, too, you know.”

“We do know!” Willow said cheerfully, “That’s why I bought you these.”

She handed him a bag with two pairs of jeans, socks, some t-shirts, and three plaid shirts.

“Well, I’ll be,” he said, hugging Willow. “Thanks, Wil.”

“It’s creepy you guys know each other’s sizes,” Dawn commented, brushing past them in the foyer and heading up the stairs with her bags.

Xander was picking through the bag, “What, no eye patch? I need a formal and a casual.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Buffy said, following her sister up the stairs.

She dropped her bags onto her bed and was hit with a rush of longing for the guy who’d woken her up here this morning.

_“No, you don’t.”_

She really had to bring that up the next time she saw him.

The _next_ time she saw him.

It really felt like he was back for good, but Buffy knew he wasn’t. She had to keep reminding herself of that. She was pretty sure she wasn’t crazy at this point, but he _was_ a ghost. Or some form of ghost. And that meant he would move on to the afterlife eventually. This story would likely still end the same way. She just had a little more time. To do things right.

A knock at her open door shook her from her thoughts.

“Hey, Giles.”

“Buffy,” he smiled in return. “I see you found the mall. I told you civilization still existed across the pond. In fact, believe it or not, we civilized long before California did.”

Buffy grinned and started tearing tags off of her new items, “Well, not exactly the mall, but we made it work. Turns out shopping is way less stressful when you can’t remember how many dollars a pound is, so you can disregard prices entirely, guilt free!”

Giles looked amused, “You seem in good spirits. More like yourself.”

Buffy jerked at that and returned her focus to de-tagging, “Yeah. I guess I am. I was just really... overwhelmed before.”

The lie was sticky on her tongue and she wasn’t entirely sure Giles was swallowing it at all.

“Well, I do have some good news concerning the Council.”

Buffy began folding her clothing carefully and setting each piece in the wardrobe, “Spill.”

“Essentially, the Council is no more. There are a few remaining watchers who I believe are good people who support you and what you’ve done. They have a host of knowledge that we’d be reckless to dismiss. The rest have disbanded. However, the organizaiton did have quite a large sum of funds at their disposal, which means _we_ now have a large sum of funds at our disposal.”

“You’re saying we’re no longer homeless _and_ poor?”

Giles leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, “I’m saying exactly that. I’ve studied the figures and discussed with the remaining watchers and we all agree that you deserve a reasonable salary effective immediately and retroactively.”

“Retroactively?”

“You’ve given many years of service already,” Giles said. “You deserve compensation.”

“Do I get a bonus for deaths? I’ve really gone above and beyond there.”

Giles chuckled, “I think the bonus in living through such a thing is self-evident. Honestly, Buffy, this isn’t for me or anyone else to decide. The Council belongs to you now and it’s your decision to make. I simply discussed it with the other watchers first as a gesture of goodwill and to ascertain how trustworthy they were.”

“So I should set my own salary?”

“Consider yourself self-employed.”

Buffy looked delighted, “Do you think I could buy a house? For me and Dawn?”

“I’m certain you could,” Giles said warmly.

“This is cool. Very cool. Thank you, Giles.”

“I did absolutely nothing. You earned it all.”

Buffy closed the drawer in front of her and hugged him. Giles hugged her back and closed his eyes, relieved to have her back at last.

*****

“Okay, Spike, I need you to go through those last moments on the hellmouth for me,” Fred said in her typical southern twang. She was standing at her laboratory table with her clipboard and a pen in her hand. 

“You mean walk you through how it was to feel my skin crackle and disintegrate, my soul burnin’ and lightin’ me up like a lightning rod, with my insides boilin’ like stew?”

Fred grimaced, “Uh, before that… Tell me what the amulet was doing and what you were doing and what Buffy was doing. I think if I can figure out why you’re apparating to her, I can figure out why you’re stuck in this noncorporeal limbo.”

Spike paced around the room, gliding through furniture without regard.

“Right, well, we were fightin’ the vamps off when the amulet began to glow—”

“Which you were wearing.”

“Yeah. And it burned a bit on my chest.”

“Okay,” Fred said, dutifully scratching notes onto her paper.

“It about knocked me over, the power of it, when I— I glowed with this blue fluorescence. Felt my innards turn and practically explode out of me.”

“Because of the fire you mentioned?”

Spike shook his head, “No, no, this was before the flames. It was a blue light, zapped through me quick, up and out the building. I watched it. Felt it. I think maybe, it was connected to my soul, the blue. Then it turned gold. And I was standin’ there beneath this ray of light, hot as the sun, when the amulet started blastin’ light around like a bloody disco, dusting all the baddies like they were nothin’. I felt my soul. No way to explain it, but I knew— I knew my soul was the kindling for it all.”

Fred’s brow wrinkled as she scrawled in her notes, muttering to herself, “Interesting. Perhaps the soul was a conduit for the mystical forces...”

Spike stared at her expectantly.

“Go on,” Fred said. “What next?”

“Well, that was it really. I talked to Buffy. She and the girls got out. Spike kebab.”

Fred stopped writing and looked up, “You’re not telling me something. Spike, I told you, you have to tell me everything. This is a highly unique situation and I need details.”

Spike rolled his eyes, “We argued a bit. She wouldn’t _go_. She was tryin’ to save me like she always does, but I wouldn’t let her. I knew stayin’ was the only way we’d win.”

“Okay,” Fred said, drawing the word out slowly.

Spike crossed his arms, looked at the tiled floor, and took a shaky breath. He lowered his voice almost reverently, “She grabbed my hand. Held it _so_ tight. We caught fire. Just our hands, all full of flames. Burnin’ together. I could see it in her eyes how it hurt her... but she just smiled at me. Barmy woman. Smilin’ while her hand cooked. Lookin’ at me so sweet. That moment seemed to last forever. She said…”

Spike paused and looked around, as though remembering where he was.

Fred looked as though she’d just finished a sad movie, “ _What did she say_?”

“Was a private bloody moment.”

“ _Spike_!”

Spike growled, “Fine, but not a word to _anyone—_ ever. Buffy would stake me.”

“Cross my heart,” Fred assured him encouragingly.

“She said she loved me,” he said quickly, shrugging his shoulders and throwing his hands up pointedly.

Fred smiled, big and glowing with joy, “Oh, Spike, that’s so wonderful. Like a movie or something. Was that the first time she said it to you?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” he said, rolling his eyes. “That’s why I knew she didn’t mean it.”

“Wait, what?”

“It was obviously a mercy ‘I love you’ for a dead man. That’s why I told her she _didn’t_ actually love me. Had to let her off the hook, didn’t I?”

Fred looked appalled, “Oh my god. You did not.”

“You don’t understand,” Spike waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t know Buffy. Her heart’s too big and she couldn’t help but pity a dyin’ sod like me.”

“I don’t have to know anyone to know that someone’s last words rejecting your love would have majorly sucked.”

“Excuse _me_ , Dolly. I’m the one who burned to a crisp and turned Casper aren’t I? How ‘bout stickin’ your sympathy where it bloody well belongs?”

Fred looked skeptical but turned her gaze back to her notes, “Fine. What else happened?”

“Nothin’! She left. I incinerated. The—”

She looked up, but Spike had disappeared.

“End,” she muttered, returning to her writing with a sigh.

*****

When Spike reappeared, he was standing in a dark, candlelit bathroom. He looked into the mirror in front of him and saw a flicker of movement behind him and heard the flutter of water. He swiveled around and raised his brows, speechless.

Buffy was staring at him from within a deep clawfoot bathtub, looking as shocked as he was, one leg outstretched and a razor in her hand frozen in midair.

“I never take baths,” she said as though that explained everything swirling around in his mind at that moment.

“I’m— sorry, pet. I can go.”

“No. Don’t go,” Buffy said instantly. “Please.”

Spike was breathing deeply, he could feel it. “All right then.”

Her hair was pulled back in a messy blonde bun and her skin glistened with water and golden candlelight.

“I didn’t know you would be back so soon.”

“Expect you didn’t.”

There was a small stool by the tub and Spike reached for it, his hands waving right through the wood.

“I guess old habits die hard,” Buffy said, watching him.

Spike smiled sheepishly at her, “Somethin’ like that.”

He slumped down onto the porcelain floor, leaning against the wall with one leg stretched out and the other bent, as far from her as he could be in the small room.

“Don’t let me interrupt your groomin’ time.”

Buffy grinned bashfully and returned her attention to shaving her leg. Spike smiled, watching her.

“It was Dawn’s idea. The bath. She brought me all the candles and soap and everything. She’s been so— protective lately. Like I need someone to take care of me. Maybe she just knows I don’t know what to do with myself when there’s nothing to patrol and no bad guy to kill.”

He was hypnotized, listening to her ramble, watching her hands work. One dragging the blade along her soapy skin, the other one following along like a shadow to assess her own smoothness.

He realized she was waiting for him to say something.

“She’s a good girl. Loves her big sis. As she should.”

Buffy glanced at him and smiled, returning her attention to her leg.

“What were you doing when you disappeared?”

Spike hesitated, “Was with Fred, the science girl. Givin’ her all I know about the amulet and what happened when it went off.”

Buffy kept her eyes focused on her work, “Does she have any theories?”

“Didn’t stick around long enough to ask.”

Buffy put her leg down and raised the other, smoothing cream over her skin.

“God, you are so beautiful.”

He closed his eyes and cringed. He hadn’t meant to _say_ the words. In fact, he’d kept a tight lid on thoughts like that for the past year.

“Damn it all to hell. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve said that.”

“Why?” Buffy said, looking at him determinedly. “Why shouldn’t you have said that?”

“I—” Spike shook his head, confused. “I don’t want you feelin’ _uncomfortable_.”

“I’m not. I like it.”

“You like it,” he repeated, processing.

Buffy bit her lip and returned to her leg.

“You are a mystery, woman.”

“I’m not,” Buffy said confidently. “Not anymore. I don’t know how much time you have. Every conversation, every time you pop up, feels like it could be the last. So, I don’t want to play games. I like when you say nice things to me. I like you. I love you.”

Her eyes were fire as she looked to him then, waiting for his reaction.

Spike squinted at her, as though trying to determine if this girl in the tub saying she loved him was really Buffy Summers.

“Buffy—”

“Don’t tell me I don’t. That’s the cruelest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Spike felt suddenly like he, who didn’t need air at all, was breathless and starving for oxygen.

“You shouldn’t say such things, Buffy,” he finally croaked, looking down at his boots.

“Why?” Buffy demanded, sitting up straighter in the tub. “Spike, look at me.”

He did. She was radiant in self-righteousness and candlelight.

“This’d be easier if you were wearing clothes,” he grumbled.

“Why do you deny me?” she said, her voice falling into a whimper. “Is it payback for all the times I denied you?”

“No! Buffy, no,” Spike said, shaking his head. “Never think that.”

“Please, Spike, what if we never talk again? What if this is our last chance? Our last moment?”

“It’s not. It won’t be. I will be back in the flesh before you know it.”

“Or?” Buffy was gripping the tub now. “What if you’re not? And you just move on to the afterlife like every other ghost seems to do? What then?”

“I’m not like other ghosts. Fred said so.”

“I know what I said before. I said I couldn’t go through it again— losing you. But maybe I can if I know I’ve said everything you need to hear.”

“Don’t pamper me with lies, love.”

“Stop being an idiot!”

Buffy slumped back against the tub and peered at him over the side with doe eyes.

“It won’t be easier,” he said softly. “To lose me. If you love me. It’d be the hardest thing you’d ever do.”

“I did it. For nineteen days.”

“One hundred and forty seven.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, “Okay, well you win.”

Spike swallowed, “I’ve no interest in your pity.”

“And I have no interest in your self-flagellation.”

She glared at him and it was withering. He wanted to turn away from it but he couldn’t.

“Love,” he began. “Buffy. What do you want from me?”

“The truth. I just want to be honest with you and you with me. All pride, all worries about the future and what-ifs _out the window_.”

Spike chuckled and looked away, “You think I have an ounce of pride left when it comes to you?”

“Yeah, I do. Because I don’t remember the last time you told me you loved me.”

Spike’s face snapped back to stare intently at her, “I love you, Buffy. Of course I do. I’ll _never_ not.”

Buffy smiled and her eyes looked moist, but maybe that was just a trick of the light, “Okay then. You love me. You love me and I love you.”

Spike looked nervous and raised one inquisitive brow, “Now what?”

“That’s pretty much as far as I’ve thought this through.”

“Right,” he said, smiling at her. “I reckon this is the part where the music rises and I sweep you off your feet.”

“And there’s lots of passionate kissing.”

“Yes, kissing. Touching. Lots of that.”

Buffy bit her lip again.

“Is it me or is it suddenly really warm and lacking with the air in here?”

“Well, you are asking a ghost, aren’t you?”

She took a calming breath, “Come closer.”

Spike rose instantly, kneeling by her side at the tub, desperately focused on her face and not where the line of water lapped at her cleavage.

Buffy reached for his cheek and he closed his eyes, imagining how it would feel— the warmth, the softness in her touch.

“It’s not fair,” she breathed, her voice shaky as she watched her fingertips slip through his skin.

He opened his eyes. She was mere inches away. But still so far.

“I love you,” he said, the words falling from his lips as easy as rain. “I’d do anything to touch you right now.”

Buffy sat up straighter, revealing her wet breasts, “To touch these?”

She knew what she was doing, golden siren that she was. He loved and hated her for it.

“Bloody hell, Buffy, are you tryin’ to kill me?”

She grinned, amused by his frustration.

Spike felt the flicker just as he saw it in her eyes.

“For fuck’s sake. So bloody unfair—”

He was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

“Spike!” Harmony yelped.

She was standing in the breakroom by the microwave, heating up a mug of blood for Angel, when Spike appeared. She clutched her sparkly pink top in surprise, her long earrings jangling.

“Oh my god. Wow, you just _appeared_ right in front of me like magic. I mean— I guess you _are_ a ghost and all, but wow! Do you think that _means_ something? It must mean something. Like your soul was totally drawn to me, like we have unfinished business. There must be something you’re meant to say to me before you can finish dying. It’s okay, Spikey, just say it. I’m here and I’m _listening_.”

Spike stared at her incredulously and shook his head, “I’m truly in hell aren’t—”

“I get it. I know you’re probably all kinds of nervous and I’m totally nervous too,” Harmony went on, twirling a strand of hair. “It’s been so long and— I mean, so much baggage, you and me. Things did not end well at all, what with the crossbows and the chains and your icky slayer obsession. God, we’re like the Ross and Rachel of vampires aren’t we? But it’s okay! Just tell me how you feel. Get it off your chest once and for all.”

“Would you shut up? Just shut up. No more talking from you. Ever.”

Harmony looked surprised but then laughed, “Oh my god, you’re so right. I’m talking right over you and you’re here to tell me something. Your spirit wants to tell me something and I’m talking right through it. I’m so sorry! My lips are completely sealed.”

She looked at him and zipped an imaginary lip zipper with an expectant smile.

“Ought to get a real one of those installed,” Spike said, turning to leave.

“Oh my god, you are _not_ walking away from me! _Spike_! Is it ‘cause I tried to kill Buffy? Or ‘cause I called her a slayer whore? Or ‘cause I messed up your gem of amigo plan? I mean that was like so long ago, but you can really brood on stuff for a long time so, I don’t know, maybe you—”

Spike turned back on his heel and glared at her.

“I have to leave the room now, Harm. 1. Before I lose an IQ point talkin’ to you and 2. Because you’re ‘bout to give me my first headache as a vampire. Quite an accomplishment after a century without one.” He pointed at her determinedly. “Do _not_ follow me.”

Harmony pouted and watched him go.

“Such a jerk. He can’t ever be even a little bit nice to me. After everything I did for him,” she muttered to herself, pulling Angel’s cup out of the microwave and trying not to cry. “I don’t know why I even talk to him. I am _above_ him. I am a _free, gorgeous spirit_. A wildflower tumbling across the desert. And I don’t need a man! I _don’t_ need a man. Especially not a man who is so _stupid_ and _mean_ and… a—and gorgeous with those eyes and those cheeks. He’s so lucky with the bone structure. Men shouldn’t be that pretty. It’s not right. And the things he can do with his tongue… ugh! It’s not fair! I hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I _hate_ him!”

*****

Buffy didn’t sleep very well that night. She replayed her conversation with Spike over and over again. Did she really say those things? Was that how she really felt? She kept asking herself but she knew the answer. She knew as soon as it escaped her lips on the hellmouth that this was the thing she’d been suppressing for months. This was the thing begging to come out of her that she had denied him, and herself, because the mission was what mattered.

She had taken tomorrow for granted and if anyone should know better than that it was her.

Buffy spent the morning in a daze, walking around, obviously distracted, but no one thought much of it. She had, after all, been strange ever since that day.

At lunch, everyone was munching on chips and sandwiches, bickering and jesting as the scoobies were wont to do.

“So, Spike’s back,” Buffy said abruptly, taking a sip of her water as soon as she’d said it.

Everyone stared at her, befuddled, with the exception of Dawn who looked wary. 

Xander spoke first, “Come again?”

“Yeah, he’s um,” Buffy looked up at the ceiling and back to her food and anywhere but their faces really. “He’s been back for a couple days and he sort of visits me— as a ghost.”

“It happened again?” Dawn asked eagerly.

“ _Again_?” said Giles, staring at Buffy incredulously.

“Yes. He’s appeared four times now.”

Dawn exclaimed loudly, “ _Four times_!”

Willow looked completely flummoxed, “This is why you asked me about ghosts.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said guiltily. “Look, guys, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. Really sorry. I just— honestly, I thought I was crazy and I just needed some time to process it, to know if it was real. If he was real. And he _is!_ So, you know, that’s good. Spike’s not dead. Well, not all the way dead.”

“Spike’s a ghost?” Xander said. “That’s the last thing we need, a Spike that can fly and walk through walls.”

Willow shook her head, mumbling off-handedly, “Not all ghosts fly.”

Giles had his arms crossed in front of his chest and appeared lost in thought.

“I know it’s completely selfish of me, to keep it secret and then tell you just to then ask for your help, but I really need it. I need help. We have to fix him. He wants to be— solid.”

“Corporealizing a ghost is no simple matter,” Giles muttered, still staring at the table distractedly. “Ghosts have been making that request ever since there were ghosts.”

Buffy took a deep breath, “Well, luckily, we have help. See, Spike— when he’s not here— is with Angel and his team in LA. With the amulet. And it sounds like they have a lot of resources over there.”

“Spike’s with Angel?” Xander laughed, reaching for more chips. “I bet they’re both just loving that.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed hesitantly.

“What does Spike do when he comes to you?” Willow asked.

“Nothing,” Buffy said, shaking her head and shrugging. “He can’t even touch things. He’s just _here_. And we talk. So far, it seems like he stays a little longer each time, but it’s not long. A few minutes. Oh! I thought I could maybe feel him one time.”

Willow looked inquisitive, “Feel him how?”

“I don’t know, he— he tried to grab my hands. And he went right through me, but I felt something cold in my hands.”

Giles stood up and pushed his chair in, “We’ll need to do some research. Willow, begin with the ancient artifacts. I can consult with the remaining watchers. I do wish you’d told us sooner, Buffy, I’m afraid Spike’s time might be quite limited.”

Buffy also stood, “So you— you’re going to help me? You want to?”

Giles’ face fell and he looked at her with love and confusion, “Of course we’re going to help you, Buffy.”

“It’s just— it’s Spike. I didn’t expect— you guys kind of hate him,” Buffy looked away. “Don’t you?”

“We wouldn’t _be_ here if it weren’t for Spike,” Dawn declared emphatically. “He deserves our help.”

Buffy smiled sadly at her sister and hesitantly looked at the rest of the group.

“Dawn’s right,” said Willow. “We have to help him. He’s part of us now. Isn’t he part of us now?”

“It _has_ been unnaturally peaceful without him around,” Xander shrugged.

Buffy looked at GIles warily, feeling slightly like she was sixteen again.

“You were right about him,” Giles said. “In the end, you were right. So if you think he deserves our help now, our help he shall receive.”

*****

The afternoon became a flurry of books and theories, which was nice at first because it was so normal. But eventually it left Buffy feeling strange. Overwhelmed, yes, but what was that other feeling?

Hope.

She slipped away from the group and stood on GIles’ back terrace in her new green sweater and jeans with a glass of white wine in her hand. This was Europe. She was pretty sure she could drink during the day here and it was perfectly fine.

Buffy sipped and stared out across the pastoral landscape, wondering what the rest of her life might hold. She and Dawn needed a new home. That much was certain. But where? And if they got Spike back, how would he factor into that?

It was all scary to think about. Far scarier than an apocalypse. But the freedom and possibility of it all was... refreshing. She had an actual future to consider.

“Oh hell. She said ‘I love you’ and now she’s day drinkin’.”

Spike stood beside her, looking out at the fields. He turned his face to her and grinned. She couldn’t help but shake her head and smile back.

“It’s been a day,” Buffy said with a twitch of her eyebrows. “Speaking of day— it’s unbelievably strange to see you out in it.”

“Unbelievably wonderful to see you in it, slayer,” he responded happily. “You glow.”

Buffy crossed her arms, wine glass still in one hand, “You told me something like that once before.”

“Did I?” he said casually with a shrug. “Well, you do. Meant it more literal this time, though. That sunset in your hair suits you and I never get to see it.”

Spike turned fully to her, “You are no creature of the night.”

Buffy tilted her head, “I’m not so bad with the night.”

He grinned and bounced on his toes a bit, “Let’s walk, slayer. Been decades since I took a stroll through the English countryside. A _century_ since I did it in the sun.”

Buffy looked back at the house, “I don’t know. I just told everyone about you and your bodily malfunction today.”

“ _Bodily malfunction_? Certainly hope you didn’t phrase it like that. Have a reputation don’t I?”

Buffy laughed, “They may have questions for you. Giles is worried there’s not much time.”

“Leave ‘em to their books then. If my time’s short, I’m spendin’ as much of it with you as I can,” he cocked his head. “Come on, pet. You know you want to.”

Buffy hesitated, but he was compelling and she was tired of fighting his gravitational force.

She set down her glass on the brick wall of the terrace.

“Take it with. You’re so cute and pleasant when you’ve got a little buzz, cheeks ever so pink.”

Buffy scoffed, but did pick up the glass, smoothly gliding down the brick steps to the path below. She looked back over her shoulder and he was following her with the enthusiasm of an eager child. She felt a little giddy herself.

“Wish I could drink— anything really,” he said, catching up and walking by her side. “Blood, chocolate milk, piña colada… I’d give my right eye for _something_. Are one eyed jokes still funny you think or did Xander ruin that like he does everything?”

Buffy shrugged, “Xander makes more eye-losing jokes than anyone so I suppose they’re still allowed.”

“Good. Don’t want to be on the outs with my girl’s mates after all,” he said, eyes darting anxiously to judge her reaction to that casual phrase. She looked cautiously pleased. “What did they say when you told ‘em ‘bout me?”

Buffy walked slowly, occasionally taking a small sip from her drink, “They want to bring you back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said, glancing at him. “You’re a hero, Spike. I’m not the only one who knows it now.”

He scoffed and looked at the ground, “Seems everything changes when you come back from the grave.”

“Yes,” Buffy nodded solemnly, staring out into the distance where the sun was hanging, low and orange in the sky.

Their walking was companionable, much like many a night in the Sunnydale cemeteries. Only there was a sun instead of a moon, birds singing rather than crickets. And they were flirting more than fighting.

“I’m sorry I waited so long to tell you… how I felt,” Buffy said slowly. “I expected there would be casualties when we went to war. I knew there would be. But it honestly never occurred to me that you’d be one of them.”

“Me either,” Spike said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Should’ve let Angel wear that gaudy hunk o’ junk after all.”

She smiled, “I don’t know. I think I gave it to the right guy. Assuming we can bring you back anyway.”

He looked at her happily, “Gotta say, slayer, this warm ‘n fuzzy I’m pickin’ up from you has me off balance.”

“Feeling a little unstable myself,” Buffy said, watching him carefully. “Not just with you. Defeating The First changed everything for me. I have no home, no direction, no… instinct for what to do next. The path was always so clear before. Ever since I was called, I may not have liked it, but I knew what I was supposed to be doing. I had a _mission_. And it cost me. It cost me so much.”

Spike was staring at her intently but he said nothing as they walked.

“I want…” she said, staring out across the fields, bright green with new Spring grass.

“What do you want, love?”

Buffy shrugged, “I don’t know why it’s so hard for me, figuring out what I want.”

“Well, it’s just the reason you said, innit? You always had a path— a calling. What you wanted never mattered. Now it matters. So _,_ _what do you want?_ ”

“You always make things sound so simple.”

“They usually are.”

She looked at him, all smug but listen-y and interested at the same time.

“I want…” Buffy took a deep breath, “I want a home for me and Dawn. I want her to go to school and have friends and know she’s safe because her sister isn’t the only one who can save the world anymore. I want her to—”

Spike chuckled, “That’s real grand and all, Buffy, but I didn’t ask what you wanted for Dawn. What do _you_ want? Be bloody selfish for a tick.”

Buffy looked up at the sky, “Okay. I want… I want to be free.”

Spike narrowed his eyes, waiting.

“No more duty. No more making all the tough calls. No more doing all the dirty work that no one else wants to. No more feeling all claustrophobic and trapped in a weird, tiny town. I want to _go_ places. See things. Meet people. You know this is the first time I’ve left the west coast? You’ve seen _everything_. I want to see it, too. I want to try new things. Worry less. God, I _really_ want to worry less. I’m so tired of worrying.”

She stopped walking and looked up at him, “I want to be with you. I don’t want to think too hard about why that is. I just know that that’s what I want. You make me happy. You make me worry less. You make things easier. You make me… have fun. I want to have fun.”

Moved and impulsive as ever, Spike crossed the few inches separating them and pressed his lips to hers.

Buffy closed her eyes and gasped, dropping the wine glass. She looked from Spike to the shattered glass and back again, “I _feel_ you. I know I do.”

Spike shook his head with confusion, “Sorry. Sorry, I just— really wanted to. Forgot almost.”

“Do it again.”

She looked into his eyes briefly and then shut hers, waiting.

He leaned over and focused on her lips, her beautiful lips saying the things he’d never dreamed they would.

And he kissed her.

 _Actually_ kissed her.

He heard her whimper softly, but felt her perfect lips— god, he _felt_ them— returning his kiss. It was glorious.

Buffy’s hand moved to his chest, but it passed right through him. The movement distracted him and he glanced down to see her hand slip through. When he moved to kiss her again, he felt nothing but air. Buffy opened her eyes like she’d just woken from a dream.

“ _No_. Damn it! You were right bloody here!”

Spike waved his hands, wildly clutching at her arms, her face, not getting a grasp on anything anywhere. She did the same, more cautiously.

“That happened,” Buffy said definitively.

“You’re damn right it did!”

He tried to kiss her again, but it didn’t work.

Buffy shook her head helplessly, “I don’t understand.”

“Maybe it _is_ time we consult the scooby club,” Spike grumbled.

Buffy nodded, reaching— in vain— for his hand one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Harmony... always such a joy to write!


	6. Chapter 6

She kept glancing at him, expecting him to disappear, but they made it back to Giles’ house and somehow Spike was still with her.

Buffy paused at the back door and looked back at him, “Ready to return from the grave?”

“Third time’s the charm, no?” he said with a shrug.

“I don’t know if I really have to do this, but come inside, Spike.”

She felt a subtle mourning inside her. Revealing Spike to her friends meant he wasn’t her special secret anymore. She didn’t really want to share this precious, private thing, but she would if it meant she got to keep him.

Buffy pushed the door open and led him down the parquet floors of the hall to the library. Taking a deep breath first, she stepped inside to where Willow, Xander, Dawn and Giles were sitting around the table flipping through books.

“Oh, Buffy, good!” Willow said, looking up from her book. “Giles just got back from the council and they were talking about the amulet and how there is no history of this thing at all, but for it to work the way it did, there really should be, which makes us think it may not have been an instrument of good after—”

Spike walked in behind her and Willow stopped speaking.

Dawn shrieked and jumped up, running toward him and throwing her arms around him to no avail.

“Whoa, that is weird,” she said, waving a hand through his body.

“Anyone else want to try ‘n feel me up?” Spike offered with an eyebrow wag.

Xander looked up and waved, “I’m fine with a wave and a howdy, so— uh, howdy.”

“I can’t believe you’re back,” Dawn went on excitedly. “I’m _so_ glad you’re back. I missed you and I’m sorry for the way I acted to you—”

Spike smiled at her, “Thanks, little bit, no apologies necessary. Just hopin’ you all can make my stay a more permanent one.”

Buffy watched him and everyone else in the room nervously.

Giles stood up and slowly walked over to stand in front of Spike.

“Rupert,” Spike acknowledged with a nod.

“It’s good to see you, Spike,” Giles said with a twinkle in his eyes that promised more beneath his words. He glanced at the window Spike was standing beside. “It appears sunlight has no effect on you as a ghost. Interesting.”

“Yeah,” Spike said hesitantly. “Not much does. Though I’ve been informed by other brains that I’m _not_ a ghost.”

“So we’ve been told,” Giles said, shifting his focus to Buffy. “Are there any developments on your end since this morning?”

Buffy looked from Giles to Spike and then back again to Giles, “Uh— yeah, actually. I felt him again.”

“Ah, yes. The coldness you spoke of?”

Her voice was high and uncertain, “No, no… more like… him. In the flesh him.”

Spike watched her carefully.

“Really?” Giles tilted his head and folded his arms carefully. “That sounds very unusual. What were you doing at the time, Spike?”

Spike raised his brows, not expecting to have to answer this question himself, and shrugged, “Buffy... tripped. I was just— lendin’ a hand is all.”

“He kissed me,” Buffy said.

“Right,” Spike said, his face turning to her in shock, “There was that bit, too.”

Nobody seemed able to recover from that revelation. An uncomfortable silence gripped the room.

Buffy cleared her throat and crossed her arms, “He kissed me and I... kissed _him_ and we both felt it. It was very unexpected, but now he’s all Casper again.”

“Surely there’s another ghost everyone could keep comparin’ me to,” Spike grumbled.

“I’m sorry, can we rewind to the kissing part?” Xander said, looking around nervously. “You know, where you said he did it and you did it and that _happened_.”

“Yes, it happened,” Buffy snapped. “There’s really nothing confusing about it, Xander.”

“It’s just— the last time this happened, _you_ had just died and now _he_ has just died and I’m starting to wonder about you two and whether death has become some sort of aphrodisiac or someth—”

“Xander!” Willow said, looking horrified.

Buffy and Spike glanced at each other incredulously.

“That is _sick_ , Xander,” Dawn chimed in. “You know how they were, like _all year long,_ sneaking off together and the looks and the awkwardness. Ever since Spike got his soul back. You’re kind of blind if you didn’t see this coming.”

“Half, only half blind,” Xander corrected with a raised index finger. He looked back to Buffy, “Look, I’m sorry. Not trying to rain on your parade. I get it. He saved the world all noble and romantic-like. It just seems worthy of pointing out how this all ended the first time. I’m your friend and I don’t want to see you hurt again. No offense, Spike.”

“Much taken.”

“Perhaps we should be more focused on the fact that Spike temporarily corporealized,” Giles said softly.

“Thank you, Giles!” Buffy said, glaring at Xander still. “Yes, let’s focus on that please.”

Spike shook his head, “Don’t think that was it exactly. Her hand still went through me. I wasn’t solid. I saw her hand go through and then suddenly I couldn’t touch her at all.”

“With the lips or the hands, what’re we talking about here?” Xander asked, still sitting at the table.

“Xander, would you stop?” Willow said, eyes wide and flitting around the room. She wrung her hands and turned to Spike, “I mean— I guess it could be important. Were you trying to kiss again or just uh a friendly high five?”

Spike returned the witch’s stare, “I tried everything I could think of.”

“Right, okay,” Willow nodded and held one palm out matter-of-factly. “That makes sense. It’s always good to be thorough.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and slumped onto the sofa, “You guys are wigging more about a kiss than about the fact that Spike is _a ghost_.”

“The kiss of a ghost,” Dawn grinned. “Sounds like a romance novel.”

Buffy looked at Spike and shook her head helplessly.

Giles sat down at the table again and sipped his tea, “Do you always appear where Buffy is? Do you go anywhere else?”

“It’s bloody Angel’s Wolfram and Hart or Buffy,” Spike said, pacing in front of the windows with his arms crossed and duster pulled tight around him. “She’s the only one, only thing I’ve managed to touch.”

“Your connection to the amulet I understand. It must have captured your essence when you perished. I’m not sure, though, how your essence could have transferred to Buffy.”

“This is about to get dirty,” Xander said, attempting to be playful. “I knew they were spending too much time alone in the basement.”

Buffy looked thoughtful, replaying those final moments, “I _was_ the last person who touched him.”

_“No, you don’t.”_

Spike pointed at her, “Right. And Fred seemed real interested in that, so she must be on the same wavelength.”

“There could have been a transfer then,” Buffy said looking more certain. “Is that something that can happen?”

“Oh! Oh!” Willow looked excited. “I just read about this. It’s called spirit imprinting. When a soul is under extreme mystical stress, it can kind of— well, imagine sparks from a fire. Little fragments of your essence go all around. And, I mean, we didn’t talk about it much honestly after you were gone, Spike, but Buffy said only someone with a soul could wear the amulet, right? The amulet needed a soul to work.”

“You’re sayin’ my soul shattered and Buffy snagged a piece?”

“No! Your soul didn’t break. Of course not. I think it was the channel that the amulet’s power used. And if Buffy touched you during that process, she could have absorbed some of your essence, possibly even borne some of the energy that should have gone solely through you.”

“A mystical imprint,” Giles said, fingering the rim of his glasses. “Spike’s spirit impressed upon Buffy’s.” 

Buffy stared at Spike with interest, “When we held hands. The fire. It had to have happened then.”

Spike nodded, still pacing and thinking furiously, “My soul. It _was_ all alight. Felt it rushin’ through me. Felt it like I never felt it before.”

“I grabbed his hand and we... kind of combusted. Our hands were just burning together while that light charged through him and shot out of the amulet.”

Willow looked thrilled with her discovery.

“Yes! Fire energy. That sounds exactly right. And you two are already so emotionally connected, your souls already drawn to each other. It’s the perfect recipe for spirit imprinting. And explains why Spike’s so drawn to you,” she paused, embarrassed. “Well, you know, ghost Spike.”

Buffy looked down at her hand. There was no scar, but she kind of wished there was.

_“No, you don’t.”_

“We should go to LA,” she murmured, still fixated on her hand and the memory. “Inspect the amulet, team up with Angel’s people, do whatever it takes to fix this and bring him back for real.”

She looked up and met Spike’s eyes. His pacing had stopped and she could see a hundred different emotions pass on his face at her words. Wonder, resistance, appreciation, fear. Why the fear?

“No,” he said definitively. “Angel doesn’t even know I come here and it’s stayin’ that way.”

Willow’s face was torn as she looked from Buffy to Spike, “I think Buffy’s right. If we all work together—”

“Angel will _not_ work with us! He’s not a bloody scooby. He _hates_ me. He hates the thought of me ‘n Buffy even more. Fred’ll help me, but she’s the only one of ‘em I trust. She’s the smart one anyhow. Don’t need the rest.”

“Spike, it may be helpful for us to analyze the amulet,” Giles reasoned. “Pool our resources.”

“She’ll do it. Fred. She’ll—”

Spike looked down to see himself fading. They watched him roll his eyes and then he was gone.

“Huh,” Giles said, walking over to where Spike had stood just seconds ago. “Quite a thing isn’t it?”

Buffy slumped back against the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest, “That’s how it goes. That was the longest he’s ever stayed.”

Giles absently cleaned his glasses, staring out the window, lost in thought.

“So we’re going to ignore Spike and fly to LA like yesterday, right?” Dawn said, one eyebrow arched in expectation.

Buffy sighed, “Let me think about it. In the meantime, let’s research how to get Spike back into his body.”

*****

It was the dead of night in LA when Spike appeared in Angel’s office. It was dark. No one was around. Spike trudged listlessly through the big, empty halls, letting his hand trail through the paneling and handrails, watching with mild interest. He paused and spun on his heels, marching with authority to the elevator.

At the top, with a ding, he swept out of the lift before the doors had even opened. He walked through the wall in front of him and the wall in front of that, quite familiar with this cozy penthouse apartment.

Angel was in bed, shirtless with a sheet pulled up to his stomach. Sleeping like the human he so wanted to be.

Spike watched him breathing with disdain. Even his breathing was annoying.

“Don’t need to breathe, you fraudulent wanker,” he muttered, plopping into the chair beside the bed. “What in bleedin’ fuck am I even doin’ here?”

Angel’s eyes opened, “That’s a very good question.”

“Got nowhere else to be, do I? Not as though you offered me a place or ‘nothin.”

“I’m sleeping, Spike. Can’t we have a ‘no pestering after midnight’ rule?”

Spike scoffed, “Says the _vampire_. Or did you forget what you are?”

“Unfortunately, I never forget anything,” Angel grumbled, sitting up and snapping the bedside lamp on. “What do you want, Spike?”

“I don’t deserve this you know.”

“There is a long list of things you don’t deserve. Escaping hell is right up there at the top.”

“Have I escaped?” Spike fidgeted with his hands. “God, I could take a fag.”

Angel stared at him blankly.

“Help me get outta here, mate. You don’t want me wakin’ you up at all hours for the rest of your undead life. I’m sure you have board meetings and golf games to be savin’ your energy for.”

Spike eyed the elder vampire carefully to see how he’d react.

“I’d love to get rid of you, Spike, but sadly for all of us it isn’t the most pressing priority right now. There are innocent people who actually deserve my attention. You— we’ll get to when we get to.”

Spike growled and flung out of his chair, looming at the foot of the bed, “And what if I don’t have that kind of time?”

Angel shrugged.

“You’re a prick, you know. This isn’t just about me ‘n you.”

“Tell me what it’s about then. As if I don’t already know.”

Spike tilted his head and glared, “She’ll never forgive you if she knows you could have helped me and didn’t.”

Angel sighed, “It’s not as if I have some secret knowledge I’m not sharing with you. I don’t _know_ how to fix you. Besides, maybe I’m doing Buffy a favor.”

“ _Pardon_?”

“She deserves a fresh start, free of vampires bidding for her affections.”

Spike scoffed, “Of course that’s how you’d see it. What a bloody hero you are. Knight in shinin’ bloody armor.”

“You’ve always been a selfish, love-obsessed fool Spike. Surely even you know that.”

He did know that, but it was beside the point.

“Never even considered that _she_ might want me back, did you? Why don’t you phone her up? Have a little chat and let her make the call for once in her own bloody life.”

Angel ran a hand through his hair, turning his face away.

“I’m not going to burden her with that! This is what I’m talking about. You have no idea how to let her just be. You don’t know how to love her enough to let her go.”

“Bollocks. Is that what you think? That you love her because you walked off and I don’t because I actually want to be at her side? You’re completely crackers, gramps. Ought to get your head checked. Truly.”

“She will _never_ want you, Spike! How delusional are you? You’re a _monster_. You will never be good enough for her and you will only bring her down and cause her pain by trying— argh!”

Spike hadn’t expected his fist to actually make contact with Angel’s jaw, but oh how he’d wished it when he swung. Both men looked at each other in shock. Spike punched him again, but this time his hand went right through. Angel revved back and swung at Spike, but he was as ghostly as ever.

Spike licked his lips and rubbed his knuckles, whispering, “Don’t talk about Buffy like you have any idea who she is anymore.”

He turned and stalked away, still feeling his fist and wondering what the hell was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments you guys have left so far! It actually helps remind me to post the next chapter (since this is prewritten) so keep em comin'!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey another chapter, what do you know? <3

“Buffy, shouldn’t we decide if we’re going to LA or not? What if Spike’s in trouble? You’re not holding out on us are you? I mean, he really hasn’t been here in two days?”

Dawn plopped down on Buffy’s bed. She was in her purple polka dot pajamas and the room was dim with the soft light of the bedside lamp. Buffy was brushing her hair in the mirror, wearing a set of silky black pajamas.

“Of course I’m not _holding out on you_ ,” Buffy replied, glancing at Dawn through the mirror. “Look, the last thing Spike said to us was that he didn’t want us to come to LA. Maybe we should respect his wishes for once.”

“But what if he’s stuck there and can’t come back anymore? Or what if he’s just…”

Dawn looked sad and helpless at the thought and Buffy refused to even vocalize it.

“He’ll come back. I think… I think if he were gone, I’d know. I’d feel it.”

“Because his spirit is all imprinted on you?” Dawn asked, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. “Tattooed by the soul o’ Spike.”

“Maybe,” Buffy said, slowing her brush strokes and speaking uncharacteristically softly. “I don’t know.”

Dawn shook her head, “I’m sorry. I know you’re worried. I am too.”

Buffy carefully placed the brush on her bedside table and sat on the mattress beside her sister.

“I think I love him, Dawn,” she said, almost whispering.

Dawn’s eyebrows lifted and she smiled a great open-mouthed smile, “Oh my god, _Buffy_.”

_“No, you don’t.”_

Buffy looked away self-consciously, “I mean, I _think_ so. I don’t think I’ve really loved someone since Angel, so I hardly know what I’m talking about. I just— I know I can’t lose him again. I really don’t think I could bear it.”

“You won’t!”

Her sister wrapped her arms around her and leaned her head on Buffy’s shoulder.

“You were right before. If he was gone you’d feel it. Just like before he came out of the amulet, you _felt_ his goneness. Right?”

Buffy patted Dawn’s hand and let her head rest on hers, “Right. I just wish he’d come back.”

*****

“Okay, Spike, concentrate. _Really_ concentrate. It’s all about focus. Desire.”

Fred was watching Spike with a studious eye, her arms crossed in front of her as he held his finger out toward the empty can of Diet Coke on the lab table.

“Yes, ‘cause I’ve just been chasin’ my tail up ‘til this point,” Spike grumbled, keeping his attention on the can.

“Remember,” Fred said, her tone hypnotic and calming. “You have the power. You _are_ part of this world. You can affect it. You have control over your own reality.”

Spike pressed his finger forward and knocked the can onto the floor with a clatter of aluminum as it bounced on the tile. He stood up straight and grinned victoriously.

“You’re doing so great, Spike!” she squealed and clapped her hands together.

“Well, you make for a clever and far more pretty yoda.”

Fred smiled and turned around, vigorously scratching notes into her paper, “This is so exciting. I mean, I’m excited for you, obviously, developing some of your corporeal sensory potential. But this is also such a scientific breakthrough! If I can isolate the metaphysic compulsion you’re utilizing to manipulate the physical world, the possibilities are absolutely endless!”

Spike was smiling at her. He found her single-minded braininess delightful and refreshing.

“Now what? Am I ready for two liters?”

Fred was still writing, but she peered over her glasses at him, “Oh, I don’t know if you’re ready for that. I mean, empty ones maybe. Have you been to Buffy lately?”

“Smooth transition,” Spike said, looking away. “No. Been stir crazy and California-bound.”

“That’s strange isn’t it? You were going a lot before.”

Spike shrugged, “What isn’t strange these days?”

“We could call them. I’m sure Buffy would like to know you’re all right.”

Spike slumped into the chair by Fred’s desk, “Would Angel find out?”

Fred looked skeptical, “I don’t see why he’d be keeping tabs on all my calls, but who cares if he does?”

“Suppose you’re right. I’ll, uh, get the number next time I poof there.”

“This is Wolfram and Hart, Spike, we can dig up a phone number.”

Spike looked hesitant but nodded, “Right. Of course. You have _resources_.”

Fred took her glasses off and looked at the vampire more intently, “Spike, what’s going on? I feel like you’re tryin’ to keep me in the dark, keep me from talking to your friends.”

“They’re not _my_ friends. Well, I suppose they are,” he rolled his eyes. “Look, it’s just— it’s complicated.”

“I’m a smart girl. I think I can keep up.”

Spike smiled and shook his head, “Got a nose for white lies don’t you?”

“Just tell me the truth, Spike. I thought you trusted me.”

He sighed.

“I do, pet. You’re not the issue. _They’re_ not the issue. The issue is what happens when Buffy and her pals swarm this place because inevitably that will happen and then they’ll _be_ here.”

Fred looked confused. She bent over and put the soda can back on the table.

“I’m failing to see the trouble here.”

“When... “ Spike groaned, frustrated with himself for even uttering the words out loud. “When Buffy and Angel are together… Let’s just say it never ends well for me.”

“Oh, Spike,” Fred said, her face morphing sympathetically. “You don’t think Buffy would go back to Angel do you? I mean, it’s been so many years and their lives are so different now and— and you and Buffy had that romantic movie moment right before you—”

“Yeah,” Spike darted his eyes away. “And right before that, she was kissin’ _him_. Not me. _Him_.”

“Jeez you three are confusing.”

“Tell me ‘bout it.”

“Angel never mentioned—”

“There’s a lot Angel never mentioned.”

Fred grimaced because that was true.

“I kissed her, you know,” Spike said quietly, meeting Fred’s eyes with trepidation. “Last time I was there in England. No bloody clue how I managed it, but I did. It’s why I knew I could play ‘poke the can’ with you ‘n wanted to learn more.”

Fred grinned, “So you could kiss her again?”

“No. Well, yeah. No, I just knew I could. What if I’m stuck like this forever? Gotta learn to cope, no?”

Fred’s face fell and she unconsciously reached for his shoulder. Their eyes met as her fingers went through him.

“It won’t be forever. I’ll fix you. I promise.”

Spike stood up and walked over to the table again, “Shouldn’t make promises like that, pet.”

He took a deep breath and jabbed the can with his finger, watching with great satisfaction as it flew to the floor and bounced about.

*****

When he finally reappeared in Buffy’s room, Spike breathed a sigh of relief that the flickers hadn’t stopped. He was where he was supposed to be again.

She was sleeping. Her golden hair lay wild on the pillow. Her face was relaxed, milky and soft in the moonlight. She hadn’t drawn her curtains, but then, why should any non-vampire bother?

He wished he could scoop her into his embrace like he’d done in the nights before the big battle. Without words, telling her body that he was there and things would be all right. Oh, how he wished.

Instead, Spike laid his body beside hers so they were nearly nose to nose, toe to toe.

Her lips were just slightly parted and she took sweet peaceful breaths.

She was so bloody perfect.

Christ, she was staring at him.

“Oh thank god,” Buffy whispered when her eyes opened. “I knew you weren’t gone forever. I— I knew it but I was still afraid too much time had passed.”

Spike smiled but said nothing.

“Jeez. I sound pathetic, don’t I?”

“Very far from it, love.”

Buffy smiled tentatively, “What do I sound like then?”

“You sound… sweet.”

“Now that’s one thing I don’t think you’ve ever called me before,” she giggled and smoothed some of her hair back behind her ear.

Spike grinned and enjoyed her girlish response, “Not one of your dominant characteristics, no.”

“I have to ask you something. I want the truth. No matter how painful.”

His eyes raced in anticipation.

“That day. Why did you tell me I didn’t love you?” Buffy asked, her voice sounding small but clear in the stillness of the night. “Did you not believe me? Do you think I’m… incapable of love? I know I’m so hard sometimes.”

Spike’s face broke with emotion, “Oh, Buffy, my sweet Buffy. I have never once, in all our years of turmoil, thought you were incapable of love. I know you and you’re a stormy sea of love and passion beneath that shell o’ yours. I know it. Could taste it all along.”

“Then why?”

He closed his eyes for a long second before opening them again.

“I was a dyin’ man, Buffy. I knew you cared for me, yeah, but love? I had to figure you were overwhelmed with pity, compassion. That you were fixin’ to send me off to hell with a warm thought in my back pocket.”

Buffy scrunched her eyebrows and reached for him, fingers slipping through his arm. She left her hand there in the formlessness of it. He looked from her hand to her sad face.

“I’m sorry, pet. I’m sorry if I hurt you. _Again_. Caught me off guard when you said it. You have a way of doin’ that.”

“Those words have haunted me,” she admitted slowly. “Do you still feel that way? That I just pity you?”

Spike hesitated. The question alone revealed the answer.

“Suppose it’s a difficult thing to wrap my mind ‘round— you loving me back. I dreamed of it, but I put that idea to rest after...”

Buffy pulled her quilt up and closer to her chest.

“After you got your soul.”

“No…”

Spike looked down, the thought of her kind eyes too unbearable.

“Let’s not sugarcoat it, sweet Buffy. I meant after I tried to take you— to steal, to force, to _rape_ you.”

Buffy’s entire body stilled and he could feel a cloud of tension settle onto the bed.

“I never think of you that way.”

“Doesn’t do us any good to pretend it didn’t happen. Xander wasn’t wrong to speak it. I can’t pretend—”

“I don’t want you to pretend. Of course I don’t. You’re right. Talking about it is the best way to move past it. Sometimes I’m afraid, though, that you think I look at you and only see the monster.”

Spike dipped his chin and looked up at her, “Don’t know how you couldn’t. It’s in your job description after all.”

“I’ve always seen the good in you.”

“Hasn’t always _been_ good in me.”

Buffy nodded, “No, but I saw it when it was there.”

Spike exhaled his torment, “Soul, no soul. Chip, no chip. I’m always Spike. Always the vampire. I deserve the consequences for who I am and the things I’ve done. ‘Specially to you.”

“You’re not the only one who’s made mistakes.”

Spike tightened his stare, “What I did to you was no simple mistake.”

“Simple, no. Mistake, yes. Spike, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don’t want to think about it anymore. To go backwards to that awful way we were. It hurt me. I healed. I forgive you and I want to leave it behind. Will you leave it behind now? For me?”

He could hardly speak and his eyes were a pool of conflict.

“You’ve never been like this. Never been so…” he shook his head a bit and smiled warily. “I’m convinced more and more that this is a dream. Of course I’ll do anything you ask, pet. You know that. So be quite careful what you ask.”

Buffy inched closer to him, so he could hardly see her face clearly without seeing double.

“I want you to believe me when I say I love you. I want you to know it like I know it from you.”

He swallowed and looked at her wondrously, “I believe you. Sweet Buffy. How could I not believe in you?”

“I have a new nickname it seems,” she grinned.

“Don’t think I’ll run out of those any time soon.”

She shook her head in agreement.

“We really lay it all out when we can’t hit each other or fuck like bunnies huh?” Buffy said, wagging a mischievous brow.

Spike laughed. Hard. It had been a long time since he’d laughed from the gut like that. She was laughing too. She looked all too pleased to have evoked such a reaction.

“Guess we do,” he finally agreed.

Buffy still looked happy.

“When this part is over, let’s not forget how to do this— how to… talk.”

“When,” he noted.

“When. Now tell me what you’ve been doing for two days.”

Spike lifted his hand and concentrated on a lock of hair lying on Buffy’s cheek. Carefully, he pushed it off her face and grinned. Buffy trembled at the touch and smiled.

“You can control it now?”

“Got a cookie for me?”

“Spike, this is amazing. This is progress!”

“Can’t keep it up for long, but I can do small things. Slammed Wesley’s book shut. Kicked Angel’s chair over. Knocked Harmony’s cup o’ pens on the floor. Punched Angel when he got mouthy the other nigh—”

Buffy raised a finger in protest, “You punched Angel? And, rewind. _Harmony_ is there?”

“Of course. She’s forehead’s perfect bloody bimbo secretary,” he said, deliberately enunciating every syllable of secretary.

“What in the hell is going on over there?”

“Hell. Truly. That’s as much as I’ve sussed out.”

Buffy’s gaze went to the moonlit window.

“I know you don’t want us to go there, but I think we should. Whatever Fred is working on, I’m sure Willow and Giles could help. They have a lot of ideas.”

Spike rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling. Buffy sat up on her knees and looked down at him.

“Please, Spike. I want you back. It’s our best chance to bring you back.”

Her face was all framed by blonde hair. He focused all his attention on touching that hair and let out a shaky breath when he accomplished it. So soft. She, too, was so soft right now. He could hardly deny her when she was like this.

“Fine. At the least I’ll not have to wait around to see you.”

“Exactly!” Buffy said, bouncing on the mattress a bit. “I’ll be right there no matter where you try to flit off to.”

Spike turned his face slightly away, hating himself for even bringing it up.

“And the great and mighty poof?”

Buffy sat back on her ankles, “What about him?”

“Will you still— is this going to be the same when you see him hero-ing about, bein’ the big boss? Wearin’ a dreamy suit?”

“Will I still love you?” she said pointedly.

He turned his face back to her.

“Well, yeah, that about sums it up.”

Buffy tilted her head reproachfully, “Spike, I didn’t say ‘I love you unless Angel is around.’ I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Wasn’t that long ago I came ‘round the corner and found you two sayin’ _hello_. Remember?”

“I remember,” Buffy said, looking mildly annoyed. “It was a moment of weakness, high on the slay, and it meant _nothing_. I told you this. Never for a second did I think it meant anything. I thought you believed me.”

Spike put his hands behind his head and sighed.

“I do, pet. I did and I do. Can’t help it though. That wanker has always ruined things for me. Any time I go and get my gormless heart set on somethin’, he’s lurkin’ ‘round the bloody corner to tear everything to bits.”

Buffy lowered herself to lie on her side next to him.

“That’s not going to happen,” she said very softly.

Spike looked up at the ceiling, “You’ve no idea all the things he’s done.”

“So tell me. Tell me all the reasons he makes you so crazy,” Buffy said. “I’ve got time.”

He turned his head back to stare at her incredulously, “You won’t like it, knowing him the way I know him.”

“It’s not him or me I’m worried about.”

Spike focused hard and let his fingers trail down her arm, “God, I want to touch you so bad tonight. You’ve never been kinder to me. I feel like a sentimental fool.”

“You _are_ touching me. And you _are_ a sentimental fool,” Buffy said with a smile. “A weird, sentimental vampire. But I think that’s maybe why I like you.”

He moved closer and concentrated on her pretty pink lips and managed to kiss her briefly before they were pawing at air again.

Buffy was smiling when he pulled back to look at her.

“Now tell me all the things that scare you and all the things you hate about Angel. Tell me everything. I won’t sleep through a second of you being here.”

And so he stretched his legs out and began his sad, bitter tale.


	8. Chapter 8

The light of dawn was peeking through the ivory curtains, painting them a soft orange amidst the rich navy blue wallpaper on the walls.

“... and that just isn’t the kind of thing a good Catholic priest in Barcelona 1910’s gonna look the other way about, no matter how fetchin’ and enthralling my companion. You can’t imagine the pomposity of the clergy back then, though in hindsight I can hardly blame the poor bastard. Clever, too, for knowin’ to use the holy water. Could hardly have been part of his training, but thought on his feet he did. Respectable at the least…”

Spike was sitting up, his back to Buffy’s wooden headboard, his mind in 1910. Buffy lay on her side, curled up hugging a pillow to her chest. He looked down and saw her lids had finally fallen shut but when he stopped talking her eyes shot open wide.

“You were supposed to keep me awake!” she grumbled, sitting up and rubbing her face. “With the eye poking? Remember? Put your new skills to good use for crying out loud.”

Spike smiled, “You weren’t out but a minute, love. Religion’s always bored me, too. Not my best story. ‘Sides, I’ve been here all night. You should get some kip. What if I’m here for the whole day?”

“What if you’re not?”

“Not a way to live your life, pet.”

Buffy yawned, “What, like you might disappear at any moment and I’ll have no idea when the next time I see you will be? Yeah, that sure would be crazy wouldn’t it?”

He watched her stretch and refresh herself, completely fascinated by her sudden interest in his entire life story. How long had they known each other now? And she’d hardly asked a thing about his past. Probably fearing the answers. He could hardly blame her. It wasn’t a pretty story. For him or any of the cast of characters throughout.

“You should take care of yourself, so you have the energy to deal with Angel and his merry men when you come to LA.”

Buffy trilled her lips together frustratedly, “I don’t like it when you’re right.”

With great care, he placed a hand on her cheek, lighting up both their faces with pleasure at the touch.

He said in a low voice, “I was right about us, wasn’t I?”

Buffy trembled and looked quite serious.

She whispered back, “Spike, I’m not so good with the love thing.”

Spike exhaled as his hand passed through her face once more.

“You’re not as bad as you think. These past few days have been a revelation, my sweet Buffy. You’ve never been so open. So _with_ me.”

“Yeah?” Buffy said hopefully, eyes shining. “Maybe there’s still a chance for me after all. Don’t let me get all deer in the headlights, okay?”

“You got it, pet. Don’t let me do anything too idiotic.”

Buffy grinned and slipped her legs under the quilt, lying flat, “I don’t think even I’m _that_ powerful.”

“Help me, slayer, you’re my only hope.”

Buffy laughed, “Ugh, we _have_ been awake for too long. Are you going to sleep? Do you sleep like this?”

“I sleep a bit,” he said, desperately wishing to be beneath the blankets with her. “Slept before I came here though.”

“Okay. Well, maybe you’ll be here when I wake up.”

“Hope so,” Spike said, a dull ache of longing. “Sweet dreams.”

Buffy smiled and closed her eyes, muttering softly as she rolled over, “This is weird.”

Feeling slightly voyeuristic, he watched her fall into sleep almost instantaneously. And when her breathing was steady, he rose and walked through the shut door.

*****

Spike hadn’t expected anyone to be up so early, but as he ambled his way toward the kitchen, he could hear the soft tings of dishes and utensils.

“Thought watchers were meant to be night owls not larks,” Spike said from the door frame.

Giles jumped and turned around with a mild glare, “I see you’ve quite warmed to your ghostly tendencies.”

“Wasn’t invokin’ much fear with you lot as a vampire anymore. Decided to go a different route.”

Stirring his tea, Giles gave a slight snort and sat down at the wooden table.

“To what do I owe this company? Surely you’d rather be with Buffy.”

He pulled out a chair from beneath the table and gestured for Spike to sit in it. The vampire raised his brows with surprise, but took the seat.

“Buffy’s sleeping. I showed up… hell, I don’t know when, some hours ago when it was still night.”

Giles nodded and sipped his tea.

“We talked,” Spike went on, watching Giles and his inscrutable gaze carefully. “Just talked.”

“Well, what else could you possibly have done?”

Spike eyed him warily, “Not sure what you’re lookin’ for me to say is all.”

Giles set his cup onto its saucer with a delicate touch.

“Your relationship with Buffy is not my concern. I wrongfully made it my concern— heavens, was it only a few months ago now? The point is, I made a grave error. I should never have interfered with her wishes. I regret that I tried to do so.”

It was strange to hear Giles treat him with any respect whatsoever and Spike was finding that he didn’t know how to speak to the watcher without quips and sarcasm.

Giles sighed and looked out the window toward the rising sun in the pasture.

“I’ve never been ignorant of you and Buffy’s connection, reluctant though it may have begun on both sides. Ever since our dealings with Glory, she’s trusted you. More than I thought wise,” he paused to sip his tea and look into the eyes of the vampire beside him. “And yet, here you are, a champion.”

Spike’s forehead wrinkled and he crossed his arms uncomfortably, “Not a champion. Or a hero. Or any other nonsense like that.”

“No, you’re certainly no hero. That term is reserved for the few like Buffy.”

“There’s no one like Buffy,” Spike returned instantly.

Giles smiled and tipped his head forward, “We are in full agreement on that.”

They were quiet for a moment. Spike stood up and began pacing, feeling restless and anxious with all this genuine connection.

“I’m sorry I tried to have you killed,” Giles said quickly, looking from his tea to Spike. “I should have said so _before_ you sacrificed yourself, but there it is.”

Spike held up a hand in protest, “Don’t go down that road, Rupert. I don’t need apologies. I don’t bloody well care. All I need’s my flesh and bone back.”

“Fair enough.”

Spike continued studying this non-hostile version of the watcher.

“Buffy wants to pick up and go to LA, work with Fred and… everyone. Might want to make your arrangements.”

Giles looked thoughtful and too knowing, “Good. She convinced you.”

Scratching his head and looking away with a scoff, Spike said nothing.

“I’m glad,” Giles went on. “It’s the most prudent thing to do if we’re to help you.”

“You’re not playin’ me are you, watcher? I’m not as dense as you lot’ve always surmised. I know there’s more to you ’n meets the eye.”

Giles smiled and fingered the rim of his glasses but didn’t remove them.

“You’ll find no games from me. More than anything, I want Buffy to be happy. She has a chance for that now that she never had before. There are other slayers to share her obligations with. It means she’s free to pursue… other interests. If that’s what she so chooses.”

Spike stood still and looked down at the floor, speaking as if he were in a dream, “Do you think— supposin’ I make it back, supposin’ she’s daft enough to want me around— do you think I would ruin her?”

“Do you?”

The vampire ran a hand through his platinum hair, “I fear it well enough.”

“Good,” Giles said gravely. “That’s good.”

Spike met his eyes, but said nothing.

*****

When Buffy woke up, she knew Spike was gone. She had always felt his presence. In general, she had about a football field of vampire-sensing radar and her attunement to Spike and Angel’s presences was even stronger than that. Since his death and reappearance, though, her sense for Spike’s particular energy had exploded. She couldn’t touch him, no, but his presence practically vibrated through her nonetheless.

She lay in her bed, tracing the empty space beside her where he’d settled in for the night, regaling her with stories of his past. Of Angel’s past, too.

Buffy had known well enough that vampires followed a hierarchical structure of power, that they asserted their dominance with one another animalistically, but she’d never taken the time to think what that meant practically. What did a fledgling experience and do to prove himself worthy to his sire? Horrible things. That she knew. But what had Spike done to survive the horror that was Angelus? What had Angelus done to _him_?

Spike had been mostly vague, but agonizingly detailed in moments. Like when he’d told her about the vomiting he’d done the first time he was made to watch Angelus violently take Drusilla. Buffy didn’t even realize vampires _could_ vomit. Angelus had laughed as Spike stained the floor with a putrid splash of acidic blood. The way Spike told the story, Buffy could feel his humiliation and his despair for his dark princess. What was worse, he’d said, was that Drusilla had liked it, had reveled in the power her sire had over them both and cackled right along with Angelus as she watched Spike break.

One hundred years later and the scene still haunted him. He could hardly say the words and his voice cracked in the telling. Buffy wouldn’t be surprised if the vision of it flashed through his mind every time he saw Angel standing there, professing to be an agent of good now.

How strange that Angelus was the monster in both their nightmares.

The longer Spike had spoken, his voice in a deep, slow-drawn storytelling pitch, the more certain Buffy was that she did indeed love this unusual vampire. She’d never felt so drawn to him as when he shared his pain with her, never so wanted to clutch him to her and run her fingers through his hair. Perhaps that was why Spike’s love for her had only grown when she had been so miserable following her resurrection. At the time it had been annoying, that he should be so in love and full of feeling when she felt nothing about anything. She understood him better now. Spike was always feeling.

*****

That strange vampire strolled through the halls of Wolfram and Hart as everyone around him bustled with activity. Carts of file folders, cardboard packages, and manilla folders passed him by. Faceless skirts and suits. 

Spike saw none of it. 

He saw the slayer’s pretty face, enraptured by his words as they spent the night chatting and laughing and crying. He saw green eyes full of warmth that he’d never expected to see shine upon him. He saw a light at the end of a very long tunnel and— what in the hell was that pestering sound?

“ _Spike_!”

It was Harmony. Standing by her desk in her black leather pants, a blood red top, and was that glitter in her hair?

“I swear to god, Spike, I could have been standing here topless and you wouldn’t have noticed me.”

Spike rolled his eyes, “Probably, yeah. What’re you yammerin’ about now?”

“Well if you had paid any attention to me whatsoever, you’d know that wouldn’t you? You know, I am the keeper of the keys in this kingdom, mister. Who do you think knows and sees everything? Who do you think writes all the super important stuff down and color codes the calendar and orders the food and stuff? Me! I am like _crucial_ to this operation and I deserve some major respect.”

“Right,” Spike squinted and turned around to walk away. He hated loitering about near Angel’s office.

“Ugh!” Harmony flopped into her chair and pouted. She grumbled, “Fred left you a message to meet her in the lab.”

“Ta.”

“Spike!”

He could hardly bear it but he glanced back over his shoulder. She truly looked pathetic. Like the little girl she was.

“Are you ever going to care about me? Even just a little?”

This was the problem with a soul, he thought, moments like these that used to be so easy. He sighed.

“You don’t need me to care about you, Harm. You need some bloody self esteem. And possibly some valium.”

Harmony looked sad, “I’ll take that as a no.”

Spike groaned and turned around, returning to the desk, hugging himself with his coat.

“Let’s set this straight, love. You were a bloody good fuck and you indulged my fantasies best you could. That’s dedication, no? But you and I _hate_ each other. Remember? I treated you like day old rubbish and you about made me mental with your grating voice and your lollipop attitude. That is as close as you and I ever were and ever bloody will be. Do you understand?”

Her pout slowly morphed into a small smile, “A bloody good fuck, huh?”

“Your saving grace,” Spike grinned. “Likely the only reason you’re still alive to be honest.”

Harmony leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and twirling her hair.

“I _am_ a good fuck. Wow, Spike, if I could kiss you right now I totally would.”

“No!” Spike lifted his finger authoritatively. “No you bloody well would not. We _hate_ each other. Never forget that. No kissing. No fucking. None of that ever again. Now bugger off.”

“You bugger off you stupid bug! This is _my_ desk and I have important things to do.”

Spike scoffed, “Yeah, go make some more bloody coffee for the next meeting.”

“I will!”

“Cheers.”

“Ugh!”

Bloody Harmony infecting his brain and dragging him away from his mental images of Buffy. Spike sauntered down the hall toward the lab. The sunlight shining through Angel’s voodoo glass made him think of Buffy with the sunset in her hair and a glass of wine in her hand. Buffy with the moonlight on her face last night as he told her about some of his darkest moments. So precious she was.

“ _Aint no sunshine when she’s gone_ ,” he sung softly as he headed to the stairwell. “ _It’s not warm when she’s away…_ ”

“Wow, slim, even if I couldn’t see your aura, I’d say I’ve never seen someone who’s got it so bad.”

Spike froze and looked at the green-faced man skeptically.

“Who the hell are you? What are you on about?”

Lorne snapped the cell phone shut he’d had up against his ear, “Haven’t had much chance to chat, have we, beefcake? I’m Lorne. I’m an empath, among my many talents, and you, dear, just made the mistake of singing in front of me.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So when you sing, I can read your aura like a crystal ball. I see you. _Really_ see you. All of you,” he smiled. “Your future too.”

Spike tilted his head, interested. “My future? I have a future?”

“Sure do, sugar. Long or short, we all have a future. Stepping into that stairwell could be your only future. Could be not.” Lorne was smiling and staring at Spike with apparent fascination. “Some people want all the answers, some prefer the ignorant bliss of their day to day mysteries. I think I know what you’ll say, but do you want to know what I see?”

Spike hesitated and took a wary step back.

“You’re yankin’ my chain.”

“Not in the least. Ask anyone here. This is what I do. Keeper of all the secrets.” Lorne leaned in conspiratorially. “I know you’re head over heels for one hottie patottie slayer. In fact, I’ve never seen a vampire so enamoured with anyone. And, well, I know some particular vampires if you catch my drift.”

Spike’s mouth twitched with amusement, “You do, don’t you?”

“Don’t tell the big boss.”

Spike grinned and stepped away, closer to the stairwell, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Don’t want me to give away the ending then, huh, sweets?”

“Quite enjoyin’ the ride actually.”

Lorne laughed and winked, “I thought you’d say that. I’ll see you around, slim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Aint No Sunshine" by Bill Withers. Finally included a song lyric in a fic! If only for the fun of Lorne!
> 
> And thank you for all the love for this story so far!


	9. Chapter 9

If it had been necessary to kick the door in, she would have really enjoyed doing it.

She walked right through the metal detectors with a smirk, as though she needed metal to be dangerous. Seriously, a corporation run by a vampire was checking for metal at the door? Spike had been right about this place.

Buffy took long, pointed strides down the halls, leaving Giles and Willow to explain to the nervous security guards who she was and what they were doing here. Dawn and Xander had remained in Europe with instructions to visit potential new slayer-training facilities. Apparently, all the new supercharged girls around the world were causing no shortage of chaos without one-on-one watcher supervision to guide them. It was a problem for tomorrow.

Where was Spike? Where was Angel? Was that a copy room over there? Why was everyone staring at her?

God, this place was a real grown up law office. It smelled like paper and coffee. How on earth had Angel convinced himself he was fighting evil within walls like these?

Buffy ignored the baffled stares of everyone she stormed past. She found herself in a lobby with a twisting staircase in the center. She heard a gasp and she turned to see Harmony with her mouth open.

“Where’s Spike?”

Harmony’s face crumpled. She looked left and right as if Spike might just appear if she wished it.

“I— I don’t know. Um, wow. Buffy. I didn’t think I’d like ever see you again. So sorry about the ‘trying to kill you’ thing. It was never personal. I mean, you remember how close we were in high school. I always thought you dressed really well, especially now that I know you were secretly hanging out in cemeteries, too. You always looked good. _Props_.”

Buffy tapped the desk with her fingernails impatiently. It had been days since she’d spent the entire night talking with him, “Where’s he like to hang out? Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”

“I— uh, well when he’s not here flirting with me, he spends a lot of time with Fred in the lab. I think maybe he has a crush on her,” Harmony said, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Angel’s in his office if you want to talk to him.”

Buffy’s heart flipped at the thought. Harmony was pointing at the door right in front of her.

Harmony went on nervously, “But he’s kind of in a meeting right now. He’s free at 2:00 if you want to come back— ”

Buffy opened the door and stepped in. Angel was sitting at a desk in a heated argument with two three-horned demons with purple skin and black cloaks.

“... we will only sacrifice the ones who trespass on our lands or break the oath of the Syouraka agreement. That’s what’s fair and Wolfram and Hart has always supported this.”

“The Syouraka agreement allows you to kill any human with _hair_ , that’s not going to cut it anymore,” Angel argued.

Buffy rolled her eyes and left the room. Harmony looked like she was about to say something as Buffy closed the door, but she has the good sense to stay quiet this time.

With a resolute kick of her foot she splintered the door into pieces before once again entering the room.

This time, everyone stopped talking and looked right at her.

“That’s better,” Buffy said, brushing her hands free of sawdust.

She knew she’d get to kick a door in eventually.

Angel stood up immediately, “Buffy, what are you doing here?”

She walked closer and before Angel could react, she had stabbed both demons in their hearts. Rather than dusting like vampires, they pooled into a purple goo.

Angel watched with a gaping mouth, “What the hell did you just do?”

“You should get your secretary to clean that up. Whatever that is, it can’t be good for leather.”

Buffy crossed her arms and stared at Angel, seeing him completely differently than the last time she had seen him, not a month before. This Angel was in a suit. This Angel had raped Drusilla and tortured Spike. This Angel was negotiating with demons about the killing of humans.

“You have no idea what you just walked in on. I’ve been in negotiations with that clan for months! Now, we’ll have to start all over!”

Buffy stepped closer to Angel, looking up at him in disgust, “Angel. You do not negotiate with _evil_.”

“I—” he started to respond but he stopped and stared at her instead. He shook his head dejectedly and backed away from her. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?” Buffy asked gently.

Angel raised his brows and slumped into his office chair, “Spike called you. I should have known he’d find a way. Thought you didn’t negotiate with evil.”

“I’m a pretty good judge of good and evil actually. And Spike is not evil anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. You, I’m no longer so sure about. What the hell is going on with you? This place is creepy. You sitting here talking about how many humans it’s acceptable to murder is creepy and _wrong_! Has LA completely changed who you are?”

“No!” Angel crossed his arms and looked away. “You don’t understand. I had to do this. It was the best choice I had, maybe the only. I’m changing things from the inside, but change doesn’t happen overnight.”

“It looks like it’s changing _you_.”

Angel looked sullen at that and didn’t respond.

“You always have a choice, Angel. Always. And you should have told me,” Buffy went on. “About Spike. You knew he meant something to me. I told you the last time we spoke.”

“I know,” Angel said quietly. “I’m sorry. I guess… I guess I made a mistake. I just thought you’d be happier. I thought if he weren’t around, you could get some distance and not feel guilty or be persuaded by him. I know how _charming_ he can be—”

“Do you think I’m some kind of idiot who can’t make my own decisions?”

“Of course not! Buffy, no. I would never think that of you.”

Buffy laughed and walked over to the window, looking out at the smoggy city below. She shook her head and turned back around.

“He’s changed. You’ve changed. We’ve all changed.”

Angel nodded absently, but didn’t reply.

“This is pointless,” she gestured from him to herself. “You and me doing this. Pointless. Where is he?”

Angel shrugged, looking dejected, “I don’t know. He just pops up, usually when you least want him around.”

“Where’s the lab?”

Angel looked confused, “Uh, the science labs are on the third floor, but I highly doubt you’ll find Spike there lending a helping hand to the scientists. Fred would have told me if he was bothering her.”

Buffy nodded and tried not to roll her eyes as she walked toward the broken door. She put a hand on the doorframe and turned back to look at him.

“Angel, I’m saying this because I know you and I care about you. I will always care about you. But what you’re doing here is wrong. This place reeks of wrong. You need to fix this mess you’re in and do what’s right.”

He looked so sad. She tried to smile reassuringly. She really did.

*****

Spike wasn’t in the lab, but Willow and Giles were.

Willow and Fred were speaking excitedly about— well, Buffy couldn’t even pretend to understand what they were talking about, but it sounded promising and complicated.

“Ah, there you are, Buffy,” said Giles. “We were wondering where you’d gone.”

“Had to make a quick visit.”

Fred stopped her chat with Willow and beamed at Buffy.

“Oh my god, Buffy— _the_ Buffy! Wow! It is such an honor and pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard about you for so many years from Angel and Cordy and Wesley, and now Spike, and wow I’m just so pleased and excited to meet you finally.”

Buffy shook her hand and smiled, “I don’t know why everyone can’t muster up the enthusiasm to greet me like that.”

Fred laughed and looked from her to Willow, “Willow was just telling me some of y’all’s theories about Spike. I’ve been working on a machine to recorporealize him, but sometimes replicating magic with science can be a bit of a struggle to say the least, so you guys being here is going to speed things along so much. Spike’ll be thrilled.”

“Do you know where he is?”

Fred shook her head, “I’m not sure where he goes when he’s not with me. Gunn says he likes to surprise people in the bathrooms, but other than that— ”

“Buffy, my god. Rupert, Willow. I had no idea you all were here.”

Buffy turned and looked with surprise. This was certainly not the pompous tweed-loving Wesley she remembered.

“Wow, you look… different.”

Wesley smiled and stepped toward them to be beside Fred. He spoke with smooth English calculation, “I have changed a fair bit since my short-lived stint in Sunnydale.” 

“Well, I guess the cat’s outta the bag now,” Fred said, nudging Wesley in the ribs. “We’re trying to recorporealize Spike. Maybe you could help us with everything you know about the occult.”

“Ah,” Wesley folded his arms. “That explains the fan club. And your unusually late hours here. Is Angel aware—”

“Angel knows we’re here,” Buffy said abruptly. She thumbed toward the door, “You guys have got this under control right? I’m going to go look for Spike.”

“Go,” Willow said confidently, fingering the amulet in her hands. “We can handle this.”

*****

From the way he’d talked, this place creeped him out as much as it did Buffy. She sensed him. She knew he was here somewhere, but the halls were so big and twisty and the fluorescent lighting made everything feel the same.

The basement? Spike had always lurked in basements or some variation of. No, that wasn’t him anymore. Where might he go?

She took the stairs three at a time until she reached the top.

She smiled, feeling that she’d been right before she even opened the door.

Spike turned around from his spot near the edge of the roof, still looking so strange to her in the sunlight. He grinned as she hurried toward him.

“So she appears.”

Buffy stood before him and smiled, feeling her shoulders finally relax.

“Hold tight,” he said, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward to kiss her lips.

She closed her eyes and received it with a shiver of anticipation, but also peace. Like she was where she was supposed to be. Admitting that to herself was strange.

“I kept waiting for you to appear out of nowhere on the plane and traumatize all the other passengers.”

“That would have been fun.”

She looked around. Los Angeles used to seem so exciting to her. All the lights, the stars, the clothes. Now she saw big, cold buildings, pollution, traffic. She wasn’t a teenager anymore.

“You know my dad lives here.”

Spike raised his brows at that, “That so?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking out across the city. “He’s out there somewhere, probably chatting up some foxy brunette who looks nothing like mom.”

Buffy blushed— god, when was the last time she’d done that? Why had she thought of her dad at all? And why had she mentioned him to Spike?

Spike tilted his head, watching her with fascination.

“I missed you,” he said.

She smiled. His words were simple but his eyes were so intense, sucking her in like a riptide.

“Gang’s all here,” she said, glancing away from the single-minded focus of his face. “Well, no they’re not. But Will and Giles are here. I wouldn’t be surprised if Willow and Fred have you solid as a rock before the sun goes down.”

“Brilliant,” Spike said softly, still staring at her like she was the one with a tendency to disappear. “You saw Angel then.”

“Vampires,” Buffy said, shaking her head.

“Wanker wears cologne now. Shows what an utter hack he’s become.”

Buffy tried not to grin but she couldn’t help it, “Stop. I think he’s— I think he’s confused.”

“That much is certain. So he didn’t try to convince you what a foolish mistake you’re making with the big bad? To… stop you?”

“Do you think he could?”

Spike grinned in response, “Not a chance in hell.”

“He’s not going to try anything. He’s confused, not evil.”

“He wants you,” Spike said plainly. “Always will.”

“I know, but I don’t want _him_. Not like that.”

“I know.”

She looked up at him, pleased, “Good.”

“Suppose we should join the others,” Spike said with an ambivalent shrug. “Pretend that we’re helpful when there’s not somethin’ to be killed.”

Buffy nodded, “Yeah. Suppose so.”

Spike took a step toward the door.

“Wait,” she said.

He turned back to her.

“Do you think you could kiss me one more time?”

The look on his face. She wished she could bottle it.

“Bloody hell, slayer, ‘course I can.”

Buffy laughed and was surprised to not only feel his lips on hers, instantly and pressing hard, but his hands gripping her face, too. It seemed every time they spent a few days apart, he had a new skill to offer.

When he pulled away, she could still feel the sensation lingering on her lips. She raised a finger to touch it before it was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which things get a bit creepy and disturbing. Don't read if violent acts upset you.

Fred’s machine wasn’t finished by sundown.

Angel burst into the lab where Buffy, Spike, Fred, Willow, Giles, and Wesley had been working for nearly twenty four hours now.

“$800,000? Fred, how could you possibly be so far over budget? The quarter’s not even over yet!”

Buffy rolled her eyes from the stool she’d perched herself on, “You’ve got to be kidding. Is he kidding right now?”

Fred’s eyes grew big and her mouth O-ed, reminding Spike of a bitty fish.

“Right, about that,” she laughed nervously. “I’m trying to do something here that’s never been done. I know it sounds like a lot of money— okay, it _is_ a lot of money, but if this works, we’ll have made such an incredible scientific discovery! Well, _mystically_ scientific thanks to Willow.”

She glanced at Willow and grinned. Willow smiled back, her eyes lingering too long on Fred’s rosy cheeks. The witch was smitten. He wondered if Wesley had noticed. It didn’t seem like he had. Too distracted by his own infatuation with the beautiful brain.

“That’s just great, Fred. I’m happy for you. Really. But I have to deal with the senior partners over this. Well, I have to deal with Eve and that’s just as unpleasant. $800,000!”

“I’m so sorry, Angel!”

Wesley looked from his boss to his conflicted crush, “I’m sure we could transfer from the funds allotted to the Research and Intelligence Department. We can certainly cut back.”

Angel sighed, “You know that’s now how this works.”

“Christ, give the girl a break. She’ll clip coupons the rest of your bloody quarter.”

Angel turned on him, “If anyone’s clipping coupons it’s you, Spike. This is all your fault.”

“You’re damn right it is. So blow your load this way, boss. The lamb’s only done my biddin’.”

Giles cleared his throat from the corner of the room where he leaned against a wall, “Perhaps we should determine whether this contraption even works or not. If it does, surely the finances will become irrelevant.”

“You don’t know the senior partners,” Angel grumbled.

“No,” Giles confirmed, standing up straighter. “But I have explained wild unexplainable things to a rigid council incapable of understanding nuance or a slayer with a predilection for rule-breaking—”

“I don’t _break_ rules. I make ‘em,” Buffy added with a nod of punctuation.

Giles smiled indulgently at his slayer and turned back to Angel, “Trust me. It’s in your interest for this endeavor to succeed.”

Buffy crossed her arms impatiently, “Just let them finish their work, Angel.”

Spike could tell that beneath her directives and declarations, she was nervous. The slayer had never enjoyed the planning and plotting of the research phase. She was made for action just like him.

Fred checked her computer and her eyes lit up, “We’re so close to being finished. We have a few more parts to install, some programs to run, and then all we’ll need is Willow’s secret ingredient.”

“Magic mojo is what I do,” Willow said happily.

Angel sighed and looked at Wesley, “You too?”

Wesley shrugged. “Is there no crisis more urgent?”

“Not really,” Angel conceded. “Maybe Gunn can help me find a loophole with the budget report. Let me know if you need me.”

Angel left the lab and Spike scoffed, “Ever the drama queen.”

*****

It was the middle of the night and the building was nearly empty.

The lights flickered in the hallway where Buffy, Willow, and Spike were walking.

“ _It’s coming for you_.”

Spike whipped around, the eerie voice still echoing.

Buffy and Willow, who had been walking on either side of him enjoying a quick coffee break from the lab, looked baffled and halted their chatter about the horrors of business casual apparel.

“You hear that?” Spike said, looking all around.

“Hear what?” said Buffy. When he didn’t respond she persisted, “Spike? Hear what?”

His eyes met hers, “A voice. Says ‘ _it’s coming for you_.’”

“Well that’s— that’s probably not good,” Willow said, twisting up her face.

“Yeah. Come on. Let’s— let’s tell the others,” Buffy agreed, glancing toward the lab further down the hall.

Spike felt frozen in place. He looked around nervously.

“Spike, _come_ _on_!”

He leapt to her call and matched her eager stride toward the science department.

He saw the corpsely figure ahead, pointing at him, and halted his steps once more. The woman was dull and white, whiter than vampire white. Her hair was dark, her face gaunt and lifeless. Her eyes looked dead.

“Christ, you two don’t see that bird?”

Buffy and Willow looked in the direction that Spike was staring but turned back to him.

“Spike, there’s nothing there. You see a bird?”

“ _It’s coming for you_ ,” the woman repeated, her eyes mad and sick.

“Nothin’s comin’ for me. Sod off, you filthy wench.”

“Spike, you— you have to ignore it. Right Willow? Whatever it is, it’s gotta be bad, so just stay away from it. The machine’s almost ready.”

Willow appeared paralyzed with indecision and threw her hands up, watching Spike carefully.

The woman was cackling now, dragging a knife slowly across her own throat. The blood hit the floor with a wet splatter and Spike shuddered, no longer numb to the sight of such gore, or the sickly sound. She gurgled and sputtered as the blood poured.

Her eyes never left his.

“Fucking hell,” Spike said, locked onto the horror show before him.

Buffy threw herself into his line of sight.

“Spike! Snap out of it! Whatever you see, it isn’t real!”

She was standing in the pool of blood.

Spike backed away fast as another voice echoed behind him, “ _He’s coming. You’ll be sorry. You’ll pay the price_.”

He closed his eyes, turned his head, and covered his ears, shouting, “ _No_!”

It echoed down the corridor. Buffy ran toward him, so she stood inches from his face, “Spike, please, look at me! Just look at me.”

He opened his eyes and drank her in, head to toe.

“I’m real. I’m what’s real. We’ve done this before, you and me. Don’t get mixed up on me now.”

Spike furrowed his brow, “Your shoes.”

Buffy looked down at her shoes and back at him, “What about them?”

“The blood, Buffy, don’t you see it?”

She sounded like she might cry, “There’s nothing there.”

“Have I gone mad?” he breathed.

“No,” she said, but she didn’t look like she believed it.

Spike wrapped his coat tight around his body and looked around warily. The voices had stopped. The woman was gone. So was the blood.

“Think it’s over.”

The lights flickered.

Willow gasped and Buffy turned back to her, “What? What is it?”

The redhead looked around in a panic, “Where did Spike go?”

*****

Spike’s screaming and the flickering lights had drawn some attention. Giles, Fred, and Wesley emerged from the lab to find Willow and Buffy speaking frantically in the hallway.

“What’s happening? Where’s Spike?” Giles asked.

Buffy’s heart dropped when he said those words.

“You can’t see him either?” she asked.

Giles looked around the room, meeting Fred and Wesley’s baffled stares along the way.

“Should I see him?”

Buffy turned to Spike in utter anguish, “Why can’t they see you? Am I the crazy one?”

Spike shook his head, “You couldn’t see the mental case slicin’ her own throat and bleedin’ all over the damn floor. Think I win the ‘nutter of the day’ competition.”

Despite the eeriness of watching Buffy speak to no one, Willow looked like she was working hard to remain calm as she attempted to explain the situation to everyone else.

“So, it seems Buffy is the only one who can see Spike now. And, before he disappeared— er, disappeared to me, not Buffy— before that, he was hearing a voice telling him that something was coming for him. And he was seeing something—” she gestured toward the doorway. “Over around here.”

“He says it was a woman… slitting her own throat,” Buffy added softly, looking deeply troubled by the thought.

Willow made that face like someone had wounded her.

“We can do a spectral scan,” Fred suggested. “Bring in the mystics. Determine if there are other spirits in the area.”

Buffy shook her head, “We don’t need to do a scan. Spike saw it. It was here.”

“But Buffy,” Willow began, “What if it’s not really someone here? What if Spike is going somewhere else, to another plane? We might need to know that if we’re going to recorporealize him.”

The vampire was hugging his arms and pacing around the group without their knowledge.

“Voices are back. More people,” he muttered, glancing at Buffy with scattered, frightened eyes. “You see ‘em? It’s a goddamn bloodbath. And they won’t shut up. Sayin’ I’m next. Over and over and over...”

“They’re here now, he says,” Buffy conveyed, watching him circle the group looking disturbed and so lost. Like he had when he first got his soul.

“Regardless of which plane of being Spike is existing, the technology should work the same,” Wesley said, looking to Fred questioningly. “It’s not as though we’ve isolated his exact spectral plane.”

“That’s true,” Fred confirmed.

Giles looked thoughtful, his gaze distant, “If that’s the case then building the machine should remain our priority. I’m afraid I have little to offer in that regard, but perhaps Wesley, Buffy and I could do some research on these ghosts who seem to be here now.”

“Plan, yes. Plan good. I like that plan,” Buffy said, pointing a finger. “Lead us to the books, Wesley.”

“Would you shut your gobs!?” Spike yelled at seemingly nothing. “I’m not _yours_!”

Buffy jumped at the abrupt noise and everyone looked at her but she just shook her head and ushered Wesley and Giles away from the group.

*****

Wesley’s library was sparse, but a warmer room than the rest of what they’d seen of Wolfram and Hart. It was nice to be away from the white lights of the laboratory.

“Extraordinary,” Giles said as Wesley summoned the exact text he was looking for onto the blank pages of his book.

Wesley shifted the enormous book across the table to Giles, “Simply tell the book what you wish to read and it will appear.”

“There are certainly corporate perks. It seems the council should have access to something like this.”

“So long as it’s not demonic,” Buffy sniped. “Sorry, Wesley. It’s not you. I just do _not_ trust this place.”

Spike chuckled, still holding himself tightly, “What tipped you off, love? The lawyers? All the murdered ghosties? The evil symbols on the walls? My imprisonment in this wretched place?”

“Yeah those things would be a start. That and the major ick vibe.”

Giles removed his glasses and looked at her, “You’re talking to Spike now?”

“Yep, he is standing right beside you.”

“She must see him as a result of the spirit imprinting that Willow mentioned,” Wesley noted.

Giles nodded, “Indeed. It’s clearly a powerful thing.”

The lights flickered again and everyone looked around expectantly.

“Don’t feel right,” Spike said, stepping closer to Buffy as the lights flickered again. “Somethin’s pullin’ at me.”

She looked in his eyes, “Just stay with me. That’s all you have to do.”

He made a painful grimace and then shouted, his face flinging to the side. When he looked back at her there was a red cut down his cheek.

“Spike! What’s happening?!”

Giles put a hand on Buffy’s bicep, “Buffy?”

“Something’s messing with him, hurting him,” she cried, eyes still locked on the vampire. “Spike, tell us what’s going on! I can see you’re hurt but not what’s doing it.”

Spike was looking at her but he suddenly looked very tired, “Says you can’t save me from the reaper.”

“The hell I can’t,” Buffy said, stepping out of Giles’ grip and closer to him.

Spike reached a hand out to touch her and stepped forward, but as soon as his heel should have struck the floor, his whole body swung forward instead and he dropped right through it.

Buffy inhaled and her eyes widened in shock and she looked at the watchers beside her, who had seen nothing.

“He’s gone,” she whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

It was always the basement for him.

“Please, it hurts.”

A woman crept toward Spike, reaching for him with a shaky bruised arm in the darkness.

A shard of glass protruded from her eye.

Spike stepped back and away.

“I’m sure it does, love. Who’s gone and done this to you?”

A man missing an arm walked by, glaring at Spike and shaking his head.

“He’s coming for you.”

Spike grumbled, “Right. Got that message loud and bloody clear.”

He saw another lifeless form approaching and groaned.

“Come on, then! No more games!” he shouted up to the ceiling. “I’m not talkin’ to flunkies anymore. No more hidin’ in the shadows!”

A gust of wind blew through the room, clattering debris across the floor and startling the other ghosts away through the walls. Spike whirled around to face the source.

A man with haunted, hollowed eyes stood there, looking very thin and quite unalive.

“You the big, bad reaper? Come to whisk me off to hell? Thought you’d have a scythe at the least.”

The man eyed Spike with vague interest, “Oh, you’ll go to hell. You’ll revel in an eternity of damnation and suffering for your many, many sins. But first, I get to play with the vampire soul.”

*****

Buffy was running at top speed down the echoing, empty halls of Wolfram and Hart.

She could feel her heart beating, as rapid as her steps. Thud thud, thud thud, thud thud.

The lights kept flickering on and off. On and off. On and off. Raggedy like her breath.

He was here. She knew he was. She felt him. She thought she could feel his distress, but maybe that feeling was coming from her.

This floor was empty. She dashed to the stairwell and was about to check the next floor down, but she paused at the doorway. Instead, she ran further down the steps until she reached the very bottom.

Buffy pushed the basement door open, letting it fall shut behind her with a loud click.

Her spine tingled, telling her he was near, but it was too dark to see. Much darker than the fluorescent white of the stairwell. 

“Spike?” she said into the black.

She stepped forward, feeling weaponless and blind.

She heard his voice, soft and low and she hurried toward it without thought.

What she found, she had not expected.

Spike was kneeling naked on the floor with vivid red lacerations on his face, arms, and back. His blonde head was down and he was mumbling toward the floor, but her gasp startled him and he looked up to her helplessly.

“Spike, what’s happening?” Buffy cried, falling to her knees beside him. “Who’s done this to you? Giles says it’s not the reaper. The reaper doesn’t do this.”

Spike looked up and away from her like he was listening to someone else.

“Go to hell,” he murmured.

“Spike!” she shouted as though he were far away. Part of him was. “Look at me!”

Another cut formed from the back of his neck to his shoulder blade and he groaned and cowered lower.

Buffy stood up and took a step back, wishing there was an enemy to attack.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Why aren’t you fighting? Fight, Spike! Get off your knees and fight! You have to focus! It is not your time yet. Do you hear me? It is _not_ your time!”

He surprised her then by actually looking at her. His pale blue eyes seemed suddenly to comprehend that she was really there. She kept going, stamping her foot to the ground, hands flying wildly as she roared at him like a starved lioness.

“Don’t you dare let evil manipulate you again! Don’t you dare, you stupid vampire. I’m sick of seeing this. I won't let you give up. Not when you’re so close— not when _we’re_ so close. Please! You have to be strong! This is _not_ what you deserve. It's not! Trust me. Trust _me_!”

What did she see in his eyes? What was that? What was he thinking right now?

“It’s behind you. Portal to hell,” he said softly, turning his head left and right, closing his eyes, overwhelmed by something she couldn't see or hear.

*****

The black abyss whirled ominously behind Buffy’s animated form.

The horrific soul-battering bastard loomed over Spike’s shoulder, gripping his hair and whispering horrors in his ear.

“Look at her, the pretty. Trying to save you still. Such passion… so wet, and sweet. Perhaps one day I’ll have a taste.”

Spike looked into Buffy’s bright eyes, hardly hearing a word she said but nevertheless seeing it all painted in neon on her face. She was ferocious. Far more ferocious than the spindly ghost of a man controlling him right now. He wished he could watch her get her sharp little claws into him.

He knelt his head down. He _was_ pathetic. How had he gone from the scourge of Europe to wishing this beautiful queen would rescue _him_ from the darkness? Angel was right. He was selfish.

He deserved hell.

“Know all your hiddens, dirty red things you've done. Then fell in love. Won himself a soul. No more dirty things. Thinks himself special. This conscience it weighs you down.”

“Thinks it matters,” the sad woman with the glass in her eye said.

The ghost man croaked, “Hell still waits.”

“He deserves it. Just like the others.”

These evil spirits’ words tumbled through him. He knew they were true. Every time he looked up though, he saw his slayer stomping and hollering like a mad woman. 

She was foolish to spend all that energy on him.

His foolish, fearsome, sweet Buffy.

Sweet Buffy.

The memory of that dug into him suddenly, gripping him with a slayer-like strength.

Her dripping hair and parted mouth when she saw him again for the first time. Her pure whispers in the moonlit bed. Her open laughter in the green countryside. Her smile and kisses on the rooftop beneath the sun.

Her passionate rantings and ravings right this bloody moment.

She was wild. And maybe, he dared, his.

God, didn’t she deserve to get what she wanted for once in her sad short life?

Spike jerked and he felt the grip around his neck loosen.

“Yes, squirm, boy. It won’t make a difference. You’ll get what you deserve.”

The grip had loosened.

He’d done that.

The kisses. The touches. He’d done those things too.

Spike scrambled to his feet, jerking free of the psychopath behind him.

Faintly, he could hear Buffy’s encouragement. She still felt far away. It was still hard to hear her over the looming wind of the portal and the sinister whispers surrounding him. 

“Reality bends to desire. That’s it, right? That's why I could touch Buffy. All I had to do was want it bad enough.”

He looked down at his naked, bloodied body, exhaling rapidly as he tunnelled all the willpower left in him. First, the cuts healed and then his clothes reformed. He looked up with a glare.

“Guess what I want to do to you now, you prissy son of a bitch.”

The other spirit looked startled but amused.

Spike launched himself with a roar. His fist and that ugly, smirking face collided with a satisfactory solidness.

*****

“That’s it, Spike!” Buffy screamed with relief.

It was baffling to watch him fight an invisible enemy but she wasn’t afraid anymore.

If he was fighting, he would survive.

Spike tumbled through a wall and she had to run around a corner to find him again.

“Keen little racket you've got carved out for yourself, prying off spirits and sucking them down the chute. Kept your own toasties out of the fire, didn't it? 'Til now.”

He was such a spectacular fighter. She watched him reverently, afraid to distract him now as he fought— something.

It knocked Spike across the room into a shelf full of boxes, which fell all around and on top of— no, through him.

Suddenly, she felt her throat constricting.

She couldn’t breathe.

Whatever Spike was fighting was trying to kill her now.

Buffy flailed with desperate elbows and kicks that had nowhere to land.

Get up, Spike, she thought. Get up get up get up. Please get up.

The basement grew darker.

*****

He stood behind her with his hands tight around Buffy’s neck.

Spike staggered up and stepped through the boxes, glancing from Buffy and the spirit to the swirling vortex of despair that seemed to be following him. If he could just toss the bugger in...

“Careful, vampire. I know what you desire. I see your intentions, but do you know what I wish? Do you know who I’d love to spend an eternity of suffering with? So pretty by my side. So much power. How I could enjoy this juicy vessel of power.”

He released Buffy’s neck only to stroke her hair and kiss her cheek with a sickeningly wet sound. Buffy gulped air into her lungs, coughing and panting but having no clue what the bastard was doing to her.

“She is so plump and ripe. Made for death this one.”

“Paws off my girl,” Spike growled, watching his hands roam to Buffy’s hips.

“Don’t think I can’t, vampire. Don’t be so foolish. Her soul is mine if I choose it.”

He shoved Buffy to the ground, just to prove he could. She yelped and caught herself with her hands before her face hit the cement. She was still catching her breath but she looked up at Spike and her eyes were on fire, like they had been when the hellmouth was falling and she’d realized that he was offering himself and saying goodbye. Like she finally saw what she’d always needed to.

She was trusting him. She was surrendering herself to this battle she had no power over.

“She will never be yours, you batty son of a bitch,” Spike yelled as he invoked his own gust of wind that knocked the other spirit over before he could reach for Buffy again. “And neither will I.”

Spike picked him up by his shirt and spun in a half circle, tossing him into the encroaching black cloud with a violent shout.

The sound of his roar echoed through the basement, but then the vortex closed and everything was still and silent.

Spike fell to the floor, trembling with exertion. He lay there on his back shaking and feeling like any movement would take the most monumental of efforts. From the corner of his eye, he saw her crawling toward him.

“Spike. Spike, you did it, didn’t you? He’s gone? Are they all gone? Are the voices gone? Oh god, Spike. Are you okay?”

Her face was right above his now. Her long golden strands flowing down all angelically, not like hell at all.

“They’re all gone, love. Cheated death once more we have.”

A tear shot down her face as she smiled. He’d never known her to be so emotional as she had been these past few weeks. It was something. Something new.

“Are you okay?” she repeated.

Spike longed to reassure her with a touch of his palm, but keeping his eyes open was all he could manage.

“Just took it out of me is all.”

Buffy nodded and shifted her face into one of resolve. He almost smiled at the sight of her stubborn determination.

“All you have to do now is get to Fred’s machine,” Buffy said. “You can do that.”

“Can barely keep my eyes open, pet.”

“I know. I know,” she said, touching at him without touching. “I wish I could just carry you, damn it, but I can’t. You’ve got to get up, Spike. Right now. I need you to keep fighting just a little longer. You can’t rest yet. I'm too afraid what might happen if you sleep. Can you be strong for me?”

“Everything’s for you.”

*****

He made it to the elevator, which Buffy held open patiently for as long as it took for him to hobble inside. He wanted to slump against the wall, but was too afraid he’d go right through.

“Getting tired of pulling you out of basements,” Buffy said, arms crossed and face playful.

Spike’s mouth twitched with a grin, but he was so weak he could barely manage that.

They were silent as the elevator doors dinged shut and began to carry them upward, the initial jolt nearly knocking him off his feet.

He felt his eyes droop.

“Stay with me,” she whispered.

Spike nodded and his eyes jerked open. He nodded again even though she hadn’t said anything.

When they reached the science floor, Buffy stood in the elevator doorway again until he was safely out.

“Let’s just get to the lab,” Buffy coaxed gently. “They’ll be ready soon and then you’ll be free of this.”

He trudged his legs toward her without thought, feeling heavy and empty at the same time. Following her was just instinct.

They reached the lab and there was a chorus of voices. Spike focused on his breathing, his unnecessary breaths suddenly a steadying force in consciousness.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you, Buffy!”

“It’s ready— we did it! We just need to find Spike and get him to stand in this circle.”

“He’s here. Spike, come on.”

So they still couldn’t see him. That hardly seemed important now. None of the scoobies’ or non-scoobies’ chatter did.

He followed the sound of Buffy’s voice as she directed him to the proper place.

“You’re sure he’s there? We don’t exactly get a second try if we mess this up.”

“What happened to the other ghosts?”

“It doesn’t matter. Spike’s here. He’s in the circle. Just do it already!”

Spike lifted his eyes a touch to see her face. She sounded so insistent, so uncharacteristically off kilter.

He was almost surprised to see everyone buzzing around the room. He knew he’d walked here himself, but he didn’t feel like he had. Fred was hunched over her computer. Willow was holding two glowing glass tubes connected to the machine which had metal tentacles that slithered across the floor to the circle he stood within. Strange symbols were drawn on the circle. Spike had no clue what they might mean.

Wesley was helping the brains. Giles stood by Buffy’s side and even Angel lurked in the corner. Ready for the show.

Buffy was staring right at Spike. Probably afraid he’d disappear if she blinked too hard.

“Initiating the launch sequence.”

There was a slow buzzing that increased in volume and intensity as the circle around Spike began to glow. Spike locked his gaze onto Buffy’s face, keeping his expression steady to match hers.

With a thunderous clap and flash of light, he closed his eyes and felt the magic course through him. He stumbled and nearly collapsed as a thousand sensations lit up his nerves. He sure as hell didn’t feel drained anymore.

“Spike!”

Fred had said his name with delight when he reappeared to the room, standing in the circle just as he’d been before.

He looked back up to Buffy, who was already stepping toward him, eyes big and curious.

When she was close enough to touch, she stopped, looking cautious now.

He held up his right hand with only the slightest tremor.

Buffy looked into his eyes and comprehended something unspeakable. She held up her left hand and slipped it into his, exhaling happily at the initial touch and squeezing with all her might as their fingers firmly interlocked. Her painful grip was perhaps the most exquisite thing he’d ever felt.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice fraught with unshed tears, her face so determined.

When the world was breaking around them, those words had been almost a question. Not, but almost. Now, there was no question.

“I love you, Buffy. I’m here and I’m yours.”

The slayer melted into him and sobbed.


	12. Chapter 12

By the time her crying had subsided and she’d dared to lift her head from Spike’s chest, it struck Buffy that they weren’t alone. Her emotional combustion had been on display for everyone. And that was just... great.

She took a tiny step back so she could see Spike’s face, never losing hold of his waist. She wiped her wet eyes with her other hand.

“You’re really real.”

He was smiling. A new, tentatively thrilled smile.

He was too far away.

She sunk her left side into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, beneath his coat. Screw the others. Not touching him was impossible right now.

“Fred, Willow, you’re both geniuses,” she said, voice still broken up and sounding wrong.

Fred crashed into Spike’s other side and gave him a gleeful hug herself, “I’m so happy for you, Spike. I’m so glad it worked and I can finally hug you.”

Spike’s other arm encircled the brunette and he placed a kiss on the top of her head, “Never deserved your dedication, love, but I’m beyond grateful for it.”

“$800,000 well spent,” Fred giggled, stepping back and beaming at him and Buffy.

“Anyone else up for a cuddle?” Spike said with a wild joy. “Feelin’ tremendously touchy feely right now.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Willow said with a shy smile.

She hugged them both and Buffy felt the urge to start sobbing all over again, but she didn’t.

“I’m really happy for you both,” Willow said softly amidst their threeway hug.

Buffy squeezed her friend, “Thanks, Wil.”

Giles was suddenly standing beside Buffy. She smiled nervously at him, wondering what on earth he must have thought of this overt display of affection.

He said nothing, just tucked her into his own embrace with a gentleness that only he had.

Buffy tried not to think about the fact that she’d released her hold on Spike. Tried to remember he wasn’t leaving again.

Giles patted Spike on the shoulder with a fatherly nod of approval. It seemed everyone needed to touch him.

Wesley smiled and nodded at them both. Buffy noticed the way he stood resolutely by Fred’s side, the calm to her joy.

“I just gotta say, that was maybe the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed,” she said. “I mean— Spike told me about how he died and your goodbye and I just— wow. I know I hardly know y’all, but—”

“We’re all very happy for you,” Wesley said in a flat affect that Buffy couldn’t quite decipher. She didn’t really care though.

The door to the lab closed suddenly and everyone looked over to it.

“Not all so happy,” Spike murmured without surprise.

Angel was gone.

*****

Buffy took a step toward the door to follow him, to explain, to make sure he was okay, who knows why? But then she stopped.

That was the old Buffy. Angel wasn’t her responsibility. It would hurt Spike if she went. She looked over at the blonde vampire who was watching her with a carefully neutral expression on his face.

“It’s fine, love. Go dry his tears.”

Buffy grabbed his hand, “I don’t need to. He’ll be fine.”

“But you want to,” he said, looking amused. “It’s all right. Better to go now before he finds a sharp pencil.”

“Spike—”

He stepped closer and grabbed her other hand so he held them both, placing a wary kiss on the back of each. “You just cried like a girl in love and pronounced your feelin’s in front of everyone, pet. I don’t need more assurance. I want you to go settle things so later when I have you to myself you’re not wonderin’ about anything but me and what I’m ‘bout to do to you. Fair enough?”

Buffy smiled and shook her head, “Fair enough. Don’t go anywhere. _Please_.”

“Never again.”

Buffy dashed to the door, pausing to look back over her shoulder. Spike stood in the center of the room, hands in his pockets and his stare fixed upon only her. He nodded encouragingly and she disappeared into the hallway.

*****

Angel hadn’t been in the hall or the lobby or his office. Wesley had mentioned that he lived here, so Buffy floundered around, making a lot of wrong turns until she finally realized there was a penthouse at the top of the elevator. 

Well, if you’re looking for the king of the castle, she mused.

When she arrived at his door, it was locked. She almost kicked it in, but instead opted to knock.

At first she heard nothing, but eventually he opened the door, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“I’m not selling cookies,” Buffy said with an anxious smile and a shrug.

“Good. I have no interest in your… cookies.”

Buffy looked away, wondering how her mouth got her into these situations.

Angel shook his head and sighed, “Come in I guess.”

He turned around and led her into the apartment. It was nice. Cold, modern, luxurious, but empty and clean. So not for her. But nice.

Angel stood looking out the window at the city below. It glowed and buzzed with life in the night. She thought, seeing his form in contrast, he seemed like such a shadow of stillness. Restrained and statuesque.

“I— um, wanted to thank you,” Buffy began, wringing her hands as she moved to stand next to him.

Angel just watched the cars drive.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, you foot the bill right? That’s something…”

“Wolfram and Hart paid the bill. I am not Wolfram and Hart.”

“Okay,” Buffy said softly. “Okay. Well, I guess I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Angel closed his eyes.

“Buffy, why do you care?”

“What do you mean? Of course I care.”

He opened his eyes again.

“You told me barely a month ago that he wasn’t your boyfriend. You told me you were— _baking,_ and you didn’t know what you wanted and…” he stopped and exhaled dramatically before continuing. “If I’d known what he really meant to you, I would have called. I feel like an ass now.”

“You would have?”

Angel finally looked at her and his eyes were warm and chocolatey just like she remembered.

“Of course I would have. I just want you to be happy. If you need _Spike_ for that,” he ran a hand through his hair and his voice had that high pitch of incredulity. “Then you need Spike.”

“I’m sorry I blindsided you with this. I didn’t mean to do that or keep anything from you. It was a recent revelation for me, too, how I felt. How much I felt. Losing him was just,” Buffy shook her head. “It was unbearable, Angel.”

“I know what that’s like,” he said, looking away stoically.

“I just hope you can forgive me. I still care about you. You know I always will.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

Buffy smiled, “Thanks.”

“Can you just tell me why?” Angel looked back to her, obviously uncomfortable even asking the question. “Why him? I know he can be _charming…_ and a strong fighter and I guess he’s good now with the soul and all. And he’s— I don’t know, passionate? William _was_ always passionate. He and Dru made a pair all right. I just don’t get this. Him and you. I don’t get it.”

“That’s because it’s nothing like what you and I had. He’s nothing like you—”

“No, he’s not.”

“Is that why you’re so confused?”

Angel turned and walked away, sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands, “I don’t know. Maybe. I think I always assumed that if I weren’t a vampire, if I wasn’t cursed, then things could be different. But seeing you love another _vampire_...”

Buffy sat beside him and put a gentle hand on his knee, “Him being a vampire has nothing to do with it. Well, maybe something. Maybe he understands me because of that. But it’s the being understood. It’s being seen for everything I am, not just the good parts. He knows me like no one has ever known me. I have a lot of darkness to me, Angel.”

Angel scoffed at that, “Buffy—”

“No, Angel. I do. And I’m not so bothered by that anymore. I have a lot of light, too. But I don’t want to be all virtue and innocence. I just want to be me. The girl who has seen and done a lot of horrible, unspeakable things. My life changed so much after you left. So much and so fast. Spike was a part of all of it. And he never expected me to be anything I wasn’t. He just saw me.”

Angel leaned back against the sofa and looked at her. He seemed unconvinced but resolved not to fight.

“I can’t help but worry. I don’t think it’s a good idea, but it doesn’t matter what I think. Maybe… maybe Spike’s really changed.”

“He has, Angel. You have no idea all the hell he’s gone through to… to be here. To be with me.”

“Would have staked himself for Dru. Followed her around like her loyal knight for a hundred years. I never understood it really. She was such a liability, such a weakness for him. He never cared. He’s always been blind and obsessive when it comes to love.”

Buffy almost defended Spike but she thought of the bot, the pictures in his crypt, and the way he’d chained her up and offered Drusilla’s dust to him as proof of his feelings. Obsessive, yes he had been that.

“He’s more than that now. He cares. He tries. He’s saved Dawn a thousand times. He’s saved the _world_.”

“And if I’d worn that amulet, would you be in my arms right now?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Buffy sighed and stood up, “I don’t know what to tell you, Angel. I love him. It took me a very long time to figure that out, but I know it’s true. I don’t need you to understand, but I figured I should try. I figured I owed you something like that.”

Angel stood up as well.

“You don’t owe me anything. Just be careful. You know I’ll be here if you ever need me.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

She made it to the door before he stopped her.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his hand on the frame. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard.”

Buffy nodded and brushed the side of his face with the back of her hand, “I understand. I’m sorry to cause you any more pain. Goodbye, Angel.”

“Goodbye.”

*****

Spike was sitting on the steps in the lobby waiting when she finally appeared in the elevator. Her face lit up when the doors opened and she saw him. It was how he always dreamed she’d look at him.

“Where are the others?” she asked, stepping toward him and out of the lift as he stood to meet her.

“Off to their beddy byes.”

Buffy placed her hands on his chest, letting them roam and feel him from neck to abdominals.

“You make me forget all the clever Angel insults I cooked up while I was waiting for you.”

She smiled and let her hands move up to his face, stroking each side very gently, tracing his sharp cheekbones with her soft fingers.

“Do you know what I was thinking about in the elevator?”

“Hm?”

She was so distracting.

“You called me your girl. In the basement. I was kind of focused on other things when you said it, but it hit me just now, you calling me that.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t mean it like you were _mine_. Obviously. It’s the twenty first bloody century and you’re _you_ and I’m a stupid wanker who has no business—”

Buffy flicked his neck, “Would you shut up? I liked it.”

“Oh. Right.”

She was laughing at him now, her hands wandering beneath his t-shirt. His face fell to her shoulder and he breathed her in happily.

“We need to get out of this awful, awful place,” she whispered into his ear.

Spike nodded and kissed her pretty neck.

She took his face into her hands and pulled him closer for a long, deliciously tongue-y kiss.

When she pulled away she was gasping for air and he was certain he’d never recover from all this bliss. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Where do you want to go, my sweet girl?”

Buffy giggled like she was drunk and he smiled at her the same way he had when they’d done shots on the sarcophagus in his crypt.

“Let’s go to a fancy pants hotel and not come out for days,” she said, looking mischievous. “I have money now you know.”

“Do you? A woman of power _and_ money now. Look out, world,” Spike said, kissing her once more. “Come on. I’ve got the keys to Angel’s Viper.”

Buffy put a finger to his chest, “You can’t take Angel’s girl _and_ his car, Spike.”

“It’s LA. Need a car. And you’re not his girl.”

“We’ll take a cab,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully and tugging him by the hand toward the exit. “Let’s go. It’s nearly dawn.”

He put an arm around her shoulders and tried his best not to look like a grinning fool as they made their way into the night.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter you've been waiting for! ;)

The cab driver had done well in choosing a big, beautiful hotel for them. The lobby had high ceilings, columns, and marbled floors. Buffy couldn’t have explained how they got there from Wolfram and Hart or how long it had even taken. She’d been so distracted in the backseat by the nearness and solid touchableness of her gorgeous companion.

She fumbled her way through a booking at the front desk and then they escaped into the elevator. The walls were mirrored and she couldn’t help a small pang of sadness seeing herself standing there alone, but his mouth overtook hers before she could ruminate on that vision for too long. He must have known what she was thinking.

The elevator moved, making her feel wobbly and flip-floppy like her heart.

She squeezed his hands with slayer-strength that made him inhale, “I’m afraid to let go of you.”

“Don’t,” Spike replied. “Don’t ever do that, silly woman.”

He pressed her to the wall and she snuck a peek of herself kissing the air.

The doors opened with a chime.

They found their room and Buffy could hardly unlock the door, his piercing gaze was so distracting. She tried to ignore him as she slid her keycard through the reader for a third time.

“I miss real keys,” she mumbled.

The light turned green at last. The door unlocked with a click and she pushed it open.

“Finally,” she said, stepping inside and throwing the card onto a table.

The suite was grand, with a white leather sofa and plush brown rug in the seating area. A small kitchenette with shiny granite counters. Everything was dimly lit with soft little lamps peppered here and there on little tables and hanging from brass fixtures on the walls.

Buffy wandered toward the open doorway that led to the bedroom. There was an enormous, plush bed with crisp white linens and pillows, a fluffy red blanket folded neatly at the foot. The bed faced a wall with floor to ceiling windows, showcasing the city scene below. The sun was just beginning to crest and the sky had the beginnings of the purply pink strokes of twilight.

“This sure as hell won’t do,” she said, picking up a remote on the nightstand beside her and closing the curtains with the push of a button.

Spike was standing quietly in the doorway behind her, just watching. When the curtains finished closing, it was completely silent and she could hear her every breath in the stillness.

She walked to him, gently backing him against one side of the frame. She gave him a slow, imploring kiss.

“Is everything all right?”

He smiled and nodded, setting his forehead to hers.

“Sort of feels,” he said slowly, running a hand up and down along her waist, hip, thigh. “This is the point of no return. When I step through this door, that will be it. I’m a moth and I’ll either burn in your flame or chase you forever.”

Buffy wasn’t sure how to react to that. She stroked his arms and looked up into his face imploring more, “Are you afraid? Are you having… second thoughts?”

“No, sweet Buffy. Nothing like that. You let that thought fly away forever. Just puttin’ the brakes on while I still can so _you_ can be sure. I don’t want what it was between us. Don’t want to repeat history and leave us both scorched and consumed.”

“I don’t want that either. I’m sure of this, Spike. Very sure,” she said, kissing his neck. “How do I show you how sure I am?”

“Well, you could start with a little dance over by the bed there, not too fast now—”

She laughed, grateful for the release in tension.

“Still Spike.”

His grin faded to something softer, “I am.”

“That’s good. I kind of like that guy.”

Buffy grabbed his leather lapels and stood up higher on her toes to kiss him properly. She slid the duster off his shoulders and laid it over a chair.

“Take me to bed now, Spike.”

*****

He scooped her up with an arm behind her knees and held her curled against his chest, kissing her like he’d always wanted to. Like he could take his time and she wouldn’t scurry off if he gave her a second to breathe.

He set her gently on the bed. She was already fumbling with her shoes, but he stopped her.

“Let me.”

Buffy paused and let her hands shift to removing his shirt instead.

He pulled loose one little strap at a time and carefully slid the shoes off her feet, running his hands up their arches and down to her painted pink toes. His hands caressed up her calf and over her jeans, then up her back, beneath her shirt. She shivered beneath his touch.

“Spike,” she whispered urgently in his ear. “I want you.”

“And I want you. You’re a gift, my love. I mean to open you like one.”

His fingers were shaking with adrenaline and a lack of his usual smoothness as he fumbled through the buttons of her shirt. He slipped it back and off her shoulders, tossing it away. She looked so pretty and soft in her silky lavender bra. He kissed the valley between her breasts, her neck, her lips. She was a living portrait of romantic perfection.

“Since when are you so patient?” she said, nibbling his ear.

Her hands felt like magic moving up and down his naked back.

She remembered all his sweet spots. She’d paid him more attention than she would have admitted back then.

“I can be very patient. Been waiting for this for quite a long while.”

Buffy was smiling, but she faltered at that.

“This _is_ different isn’t it?” she said, absently thumbing one of his nipples. “You’re different. I’m different. We’ve had each other so many times, so many ways, but never this way.”

Spike unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, pulling them off as she stretched backward like a cat.

“All true, love.”

He ran his hands along her bare skin, reveling at the sight of her stretched out in her delicate underthings.

“Buffy, you’re so golden and glorious. Not bein’ able to touch you for so long was positively cruel reward for my noble sacrifice.”

He leaned down to kiss the insides of her thighs, one then the other. She let out a soft whimper.

“I love these legs,” he said, looking up at her with his cheek pressed against her thigh. “They’re strong and soft, just like you are, my love. All dainty, smooth, and tan but could end me with a twist if they wanted to.”

Buffy smirked and ran her fingernails along his scalp.

“What else do you love?” she asked.

He was happy to tell.

“I love how your hips curve,” Spike said, planting a kiss on each in demonstration. “I love how they sway when you walk and fill up my hands when I’m fucking you.”

She made a happy sound that made him smile. She liked the naughty talk, his good girl.

“Love your sweet, round tits,” he said, unclasping her bra and throwing it away as he kissed each breast with all the reverence they deserved. “How they light up when I touch them and suck them. Bite them.”

Buffy was trembling now and she whimpered when he gently bit one nipple.

Spike took the hands she had on his chest and kissed each finger.

“I love your bitty hands. Could wallop me in the head, these hands, but they won’t. No. Right now, they’re makin’ quick work of my trousers because they know what’s inside and they want a touch.”

Buffy giggled and followed his instructions, unzipping his black denim and shoving them down his legs.

“That sound, that’s one of my favorites, love. I never got to hear it much before. Christ. Such a happy sound.”

She took his cock into both hands and began to stroke and squeeze him just the way he liked, looking to him for feedback, no more laughter in her eyes.

Spike kissed her encouragingly and smoothed her blonde hair away from her face.

“Your eyes,” he said, feeling vulnerable suddenly with her face so close to his and his balls tight in her grip. “Could always see how you wanted me in your eyes, even if your pretty lips couldn’t tell me yet. Even if it was just my body you needed. I’ve always been yours. Everything I had was yours and I was happy to give it.”

He kissed those rosy lips.

“Spike,” she said, and he knew it was the beginning of a protest, a consolation.

“Hush, love. I had little else to give you before. I know that now.”

“No. Not— no.”

He pulled off her panties and kissed her clit lovingly before returning to her face. He had to see her properly this time. Lips on hers, he stroked her clit in a soft, lazy circle that made her moan into his mouth and writhe like he was casting a spell.

“You have my body and my soul now, sweetheart. Everything is yours. Everything.”

Buffy thrust against his hand, “I want to be yours, too.”

“You are, my sweet. You are.”

“I don’t want to mess this up,” she said, tears unshed but close to the surface.

“Sweet Buffy. That won’t happen.”

Spike wrapped his arms around her and pulled her up so she was sitting in his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist. She’d grabbed him by the cock again and was guiding him inside.

“Christ,” he breathed. “Better even than I remembered. So warm and wet and tight. Love your quim so much.”

Buffy smiled and kissed him, luxuriating in the depths of his mouth.

“So,” she said. “You love my _quim_ , my eyes, my hands, my breasts, my legs, but—”

“Hips,” he murmured, gently biting and sucking her neck as her head lolled back. “Don’t forget hips.”

He squeezed them for emphasis and she arched her back in response.

“Hips,” she agreed. “But what about the rest of me? You love me. Don’t you? Say it, Spike. Tell me how you love me.”

Spike chuckled and lifted her by her bottom just to thrust her down against him, knowing how she’d moan and collapse against his chest.

A year ago, she’d never ask for this. Never wish to be reminded of his love.

“I do,” he said with a long, sweet kiss to her lips. So happy to tell her and be heard. “Buffy, I love you. You know I do. You know I will always love you. Every bit of me. From now ‘til dust. I am yours and I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Buffy shook against him with a sharp cry, but he kept thrusting up into her anyway, pushing for more, gripping the back of her neck with one hand. She was gasping and shaking in his grasp still.

“I love you, Spike,” she said, still panting. “I’m so happy right now. I wish time would stop and we could just be here, happy like this, forever.”

“I’m willin’ to try if you are.”

She took his face into her hands.

“I insist. And, damn it, I will get what I want this time.”

*****

After, he’d tucked her beneath the sheets and slid in beside her, head next to hers on the pillow. She felt sweaty and noodley, but he was cool and solid against her and everything felt right naked beneath the sheets with him.

Light was splattering through the curtains, just around the edges.

“It’s been about the longest day of my life, and that’s saying something for me, but I still hate to sleep. No dream will be better than this.”

She turned to kiss him again and enjoy his wonderfully talkative blue eyes.

“You should rest, sweet Buffy,” he said, looking content and enchanted.

“I can’t. This is too perfect and if it ends now then what will ever compare?”

Spike laughed, “Are you sure you’re my Buffy Summers? Was there a mix up at the slayer plant? I’d hate to have mucked up the world with my fantasies of how you might talk to me one day.”

“No mixy, no mucky. Just Buffy. Your Buffy.”

He swept her lips with his thumb and regarded her gravely. 

“She’s perfect, my Buffy. Slays me every day.”

“No,” she said. “Definitely not perfect. Just yours.”

“Reckon that’ll do.”

Buffy grinned and closed her eyes, “God. How did we get so gross and _sweet_?”

“Think that’s what they call love. Has a certain tunnel vision effect to it, where no one and nothin’ else seems to matter. Long as you have each other.”

Her grin faded and she looked at him, so sincere as always. She nodded, feeling tipsy with exhaustion.

“Okay, lover. I’m going to sleep now. And when I wake up, we’re going to do this. This ‘you and me’ thing. We’re doing it. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. I’m not afraid anymore.”

Spike closed his eyes and said nothing at first, pressing his forehead to her lips. She heard him swallow. She kissed the top of his head and finally he looked up at her.

“I’m more afraid now than ever,” he said. “Never in my wildest dreams was it ever this good.”

He did look afraid and it melted her.

“It’s you and it’s me, Spike. We can do anything. There’s nothing stronger, nothing more powerful than us.”

He nodded and she felt her heart breaking as she watched him mentally work to push off the fear.

“I love you so much,” he said, closing his eyes.

Buffy closed hers, too, and snuggled in closer to his chest.

“Don’t ever stop saying it.”

“Never.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More yumminess. Because duh.

When she woke, the sun was still up and he was still there.

What a simple, remarkable thing that was.

She’d known he would be. Even that final night before they faced The First, when they were both so unsure about each other, she’d been sure about that. He’d be there in the morning.

Spike would always be there.

She’d taken that for granted, but now she had a second chance.

They both lay on their sides, facing one another. He looked so very still, for obvious reasons, but so very beautiful, too. It wasn’t right to be so eternally gorgeous, a piece of cool marble cut in perfect angles, both sharp and smooth. Her looks would fade, assuming she lived so long, but his unique beauty was forever. It made her feel small.

Buffy reached out to touch his pale skin, but as soon as her hand got close, he intercepted and grabbed her wrist tightly. She started with surprise and his eyes sprung open, comprehension quickly dawning.

“Sorry, love. Old habits.”

He pulled her wrist to his mouth for a kiss before releasing it. Eyes uncharacteristically cautious.

“It’s okay. You just looked so pretty, I wanted to touch.”

His lips curled at that.

“Touch anything you like, my darling.”

Buffy smirked, “Darling. Sweetheart. Love.”

“Too much?”

She shook her head, smiling, “I like it. Kind of surprises me how much I like it. Just don’t call me goldilocks.”

Spike grinned and twirled some of her hair in his hands, “Can manage that. Even though you are so golden and naughty. Demandin’ this and that, then this again. Endlessly displeased you are.”

“Not uh!” she kicked his shin playfully beneath the sheets and then ran her foot along his leg. “I can be pleased, a cornucopia of pleased. You should know that better than anyone.”

“Also know how bitchy you can be better than anyone,” he said, eyes mischievous as his voice dipped to a low timbre. “ _Sweetheart_.”

She looked at him with an open-mouthed grin of disbelief and amusement at his smugness.

“Guess I can’t argue with that.”

He looked delighted and she felt like she’d passed some sort of test as he pulled her hips to his and rewarded her with a long kiss. Buffy moaned happily as he explored her mouth and shifted his body to lay on top of hers, his hands squeezing both her breasts.

Her stomach rumbled and they both froze. She looked up at him awkwardly.

“Right, that whole food thing.”

“I’m a bloody wanker,” he said, caressing both sides of her face with his hands. “You haven’t had a bite since that bag of crisps yesterday afternoon.”

She thought about it, “Uh, yeah, I guess so. Not sure how that’s your fault though.”

Spike rolled away from her, leaping into action mode.

“Hey!” she said, sitting up with the sheet clutched to her chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“A place this posh has room service,” he said, disappearing into the living area.

When he returned he had a black leather book. He plopped back onto the bed, stretching his legs out and completely disregarding his own nakedness.

Thumbing through the pages, he glanced over at her, “Burger with cheese, no pickles, Diet Coke? Or breakfast? You want breakfast? What time is it? Oh, sod it. They can scramble a bloody egg any time of day, no?”

Buffy watched him with wonder, overwhelmed with conflicting feelings. Pleasure and guilt vying for her expression.

“You know I don’t like pickles.”

He froze, but kept his eyes on the menu.

“Watched you for years, didn’t I?”

“In a _mostly_ non-stalkery way.”

Spike sighed, “Have to be quite the dolt to not notice you orderin’ the same bloody thing every time you were at the Bronze.”

He handed her the menu. She took it and looked at him smugly.

“Well, I think I’m in the mood for something different,” she said with a haughty air. “I think I’ll have steak. Do you eat steak? Don’t see ‘ _blood a la pig’_ anywhere on the menu.”

“I’ll eat it if it’s very, _very_ rare.”

“Gross.”

Spike snatched the menu up and picked up the phone on the nightstand beside him, cradling it against his shoulder as he dialed. Buffy rolled her eyes as he ordered far more than the two steaks they’d agreed upon.

She crossed her arms when he hung up.

“You ordered red wine. I like white.”

“Need red with steak.”

“I like white,” she insisted.

He squinted at her and tilted his head challengingly, “Thought this Buffy was up for something new.”

She bit her lip, but continued glaring.

He tossed her protective sheet away and pounced on top of her, causing Buffy to emit a happy girlish yelp. He pressed her arms to the bed and kissed her hard.

“Do you know how you drive me wild when you bite that little lip of yours?”

She giggled against his mouth, “I like you wild.”

Spike moved from her lips to her neck, his hands all over.

“I like you naked. Naked and hot and mine.”

Buffy gasped as his fingers entered her without warning, his thumb pressing her clit in the soft circles he knew she liked. His mouth sucked at her nipple and he seemed to be everywhere. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the sensations.

“Mmm, you are delicious, my sweet slayer.”

She wrapped a leg around him, writhing against his hand.

“Sweet, creamy slayer,” he uttered between kisses.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned as his fingers enchanted her. “Never stop.”

Her cell phone rang.

They looked at each other, baffled by this strange noise interrupting them.

Spike returned to his rhythm, adding his mouth between her legs, still moving his fingers within her.

“Oh,” Buffy moaned with pleasure, closing her eyes and lying back with her head on the pillow. “It could be Dawn. I should answer. It’s— oh, god, wow— it’s probably Dawn.”

“She can wait.”

The phone stopped ringing. Buffy groaned and wrapped her legs around his torso.

The sound started again. Spike bit her thigh, causing her to yelp again, and hopped out of bed.

“Spike? What are you— wait—”

He found the phone in one of her pockets from the clothing pile on the floor. He flipped it open and shoved it into her hand.

“You better get that,” he said with a grin, returning to his work.

Buffy gasped as he licked and sucked her clit, eyes all devilish and determined.

“You are a very bad, evil thing,” she whispered angrily, lifting the phone to her ear.

Spike laughed and the vibrations sent more waves of pleasure through her body.

“Hello,” Buffy said, concentrating all her energy into sounding normal.

“Buffy! I called you so many times yesterday. Didn’t you check your phone at all? Why didn’t you call me back? There’s seriously no point in you having a cell phone if you’re still going to ignore me all the time.”

“I— I was busy.”

Short sentences. That was the key.

“Well, are you okay?” Dawn went on. “Is Spike okay? What’s going on?”

Buffy clung tight to the bedspread with her other hand, eyes on her highly amused lover, his dark brows dancing with mischief as he tended to her.

“I’m good— very good—” she whimpered slightly and covered the phone hastily. “Spike, I swear to god.”

“Mmm, what do you swear, pet? Swear to come for me when I say so?”

“Oh my god,” she closed her eyes and grunted with frustration.

“Buffy?” Dawn sounded annoyed. “Are you talking to someone else? Is it Spike?”

“Sorry, yes, it’s _Spike_ ,” she said, spitting out his name while sending him a glare and simultaneously throbbing with pleasure. “He’s extremely— distracting— right now. I’m sorry, Dawn.”

“Is he still a ghost?”

“Oh no, _very—_ solid.”

“Oh my god, yay! Buffy! Yay! This is great news! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Uh,” Buffy hesitated and thrust against Spike’s face, making him chuckle against her once more. “Um…”

She was struggling to find a reason that didn’t involve the vampire sexcapades she was currently involved in.

“You sound really weird. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Buffy looked at the ceiling as she felt herself cresting, “I’m— fine. Just beat. It’s been— it’s been— a crazy—- I’msorryDawnI’llcallyouback.”

She snapped the phone shut and practically roared with release.

Spike lifted his head, “Damn, I had it. You cheated.”

Buffy lay with her gaze still high above her.

“Yeah, _I’m_ the one who plays dirty.”

He smirked and crawled up her body to plant wet kisses on her lips that tasted like her and all her desire. 

“You like the dirt, my girl, no use denyin’ it anymore.”

Buffy placed her hands on his face, “You’re not dirt, Spike. _Evil_ , obviously, but not dirt.”

There was a knock at the door. Spike raised one brow and kissed her on the forehead before pulling away from her and finding his pants. He put them on without looking away from her and then disappeared into the living area.

Buffy stretched out in the cool sheets and sighed with contentment.

*****

“I feel weird eating this feast all by myself,” Buffy said.

She looked adorable sitting at the table wrapped in nothing but a sheet, her hair all mussed and skin flushed pink.

“What are you on about? I have mine right here.”

Spike pointed at his plate of rare meat and glass of merlot. 

“Yeah, and the other six plates are all for me?”

“Need to restore your strength.”

“What about you? Don’t you need some blood?”

“Feel fine, pet. I’ll snag somethin’ at nightfall.”

Buffy tilted her head, “Snag something like—”

“Only a turn of phrase. I will properly _purchase_ my sustenance,” he said mockingly. “‘Sides, my woman’s flush with cash now. I can afford life’s luxuries.”

“Buying blood from the butcher. Look out, Paris Hilton.”

She cut a piece of her steak and took a bite.

“Mmm, that is sinfully good.”

Spike took a bite of his own while he watched her.

“You are so beautiful, love. Everything you do is beautiful.”

She put down her fork and looked at him. He was surprised to find she looked sad.

“Oh, Spike. This is when the bad creeps in, isn’t it?”

“There’s no bad,” he said emphatically.

“All this happiness,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s dangerous.”

“Anything worth having is dangerous.”

Buffy thought about that and looked down at her food, “I guess.”

“Are you worried I’ll hurt you, pet?”

She looked at him, shirtless with a fork in his hand and a drop of pain in his eyes at the mere prospect.

“No. Not that. I’m just aware of the pattern that is my life. Good things never last.”

Spike leaned forward, elbows on the table, so he was closer to her sad stare.

“Neither do the bad. Life’s always up, down, and all about. You can’t squander every bit of happiness you find because life might squeeze it out of you first. That’s no way to live.”

She looked unsure, but hesitantly hopeful.

“Come here, sweet girl.”

Buffy smiled begrudgingly and stood up, taking his outstretched hand. He pulled her into his lap, running his hands up her back and down one arm.

“Easier when we can touch, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, nuzzling her face into his neck.

“You’re gonna be happy, Buffy. I know that’s hard to believe, but you are. A girl like you... I won’t bloody well have it otherwise.”

She touched his face and kissed him gently. She was light as a doll on his knee.

“You believe me, sweetheart?”

Buffy breathed in and out very slowly before answering, “I’ve never had a future. Not really. It’s… overwhelming.”

He stroked her hair.

“You’re not alone.”

“Not alone. Not the one. Not sure what I am.”

Spike cocked his head, “You’ll always be the one, slayer.”

She smiled, “I meant not the one and only slayer.”

“I know what you meant, and you’re wrong. No slayer will ever compare to the likes of what you’ve done.”

Buffy touched him reverently, like his face was made of glass.

“What _we’ve_ done.”

Spike kissed her and then lifted her onto her feet.

“Eat up, love. I still have big plans for you and you’ll need your strength.”

Buffy slid back into her seat across the table from him and took a sip of her wine. She frowned with disgust and he laughed.

*****

“God how I need you. Buffy, my Buffy. You were made for this, love. Made to ride my cock and own me with your body. Holy fuck, woman. I love you. I need you. Never go. Never. Fuck, _just_ like that. Bloody hell, you are perfect. So gorgeous and fierce you are—”

He came and shook beneath her, squeezing his eyes shut with ecstasy, but Buffy grabbed him by the chin and forced his attention back to her face.

“You’re mine, Spike.”

He grinned and parted his lips, still lurching beneath her. She seized the invitation, diving in to devour him as she had always done. 

Eventually, he sank back against the sofa trembling with pleasure and relief.

“You are a true queen, my love.”

Buffy relaxed against his chest, legs still wrapped around his waist, arms around his shoulders. His cock still buried deep inside.

Her cell phone rang again, shrill within their quiet.

Buffy sighed, “Real world’s knocking. Again.”

“Let ‘em knock.”

They listened to it ring without moving.

When it finally stopped, she kissed him.

“Make love to me, Spike. I want so much more. I don’t want anything else.”


	15. Chapter 15

Darkness came and Spike’s need for blood forced them out into the world. 

He’d told her that he could run to the butcher and be back in fifteen minutes, but that seemed fifteen minutes too long to Buffy. What was she possibly going to do at the hotel by herself anyhow? She worried that she lacked the willpower to not pick up the phone if she didn’t have his blue eyes to tether her to the bubble she wanted to stay in right now.

The night air felt pleasantly cool on her skin and filled up her lungs like the day never could. The night would always energize her.

Walking down the sidewalks with Spike, surrounded by people, reminded her of how isolated their entire relationship had always been.

“Why is everyone staring at us?” she wondered, making explicit eye contact with many an onlooker.

Spike took her hand in his, obviously pleased when her only response was a little grin.

“They’re wonderin’ what the gorgeous girl next door is doing canoodlin’ with the big bad.”

Buffy snorted, “If they only knew the half of it...”

They found the butcher shop and made their purchase.

Outside, with his brown paper bag, Spike slipped around the corner into the closest alleyway. He propped himself against a brick wall and held the plastic cup to his lips with one hand, slurping down the red liquid until every drop was gone. He leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and sighed, the cup falling to the ground beside him.

“What’s it feel like?” Buffy asked gently, picking up the cup and tossing it in the nearby dumpster.

His eyes remained closed, “Like sweet life itself surgin’ through me. How the sun feels to you I reckon? Dunno. It’s hard to remember that feelin’ it was so long ago.”

Buffy stepped closer, pressing her front to his, “It’s warm and comforting, like… like a soft, silky touch that lights you up from the outside in.”

He opened his eyes and smiled at her, “Yeah? _You_ light me up from the outside in.”

She ran her hands along all his exposed skin and peered up at him.

“Who needs the sun?” Spike whispered, trapped in her gaze. “Got fire and life incarnate right here beneath my hands. Heatin’ me up and burnin’ me just right.”

“You can make anything sound good, can’t you?” she whispered back, kissing him with lingering, clingy lips.

Spike stroked her cheek, “I’m a poet, don’t you know?”

“Yeah, Spike the _poet_ ,” Buffy laughed.

His smile remained but the joy in his eyes sunk a bit. She tilted her head inquiringly and he shook his in response.

“I love you,” he said. “Got a lot to tell you about, that’s all.”

Buffy smiled and squeezed his hands in response.

Spike kissed her again, “Come now, love, let’s find you somethin’ to drink that won’t make your tongue curl.”

*****

She wasn’t dressed for a night out, he thought. He knew Buffy’s style well and knew she’d rather be wearing something short and tight in a dark, electric place like this. They’d left Wolfram and Hart with only the clothes on their back, though, and that meant Buffy still donned her jeans and buttoned white sleeveless shirt, a cream-colored jacket on top. Somehow, even dressed like a school counselor, she still glowed, and Spike knew she could walk into any bar in the city and wouldn’t be denied.

She was sitting on a high stool at a pub table, swaying to the music and fending off male attention with practiced expertise while she waited for him to bring their drinks. 

Spike’s mind drifted to how amazing she’d looked in the shower before they’d left, her hair dark and dripping, her skin all slick with water and suds. They’d washed each other so gently, feeling like the only ones in all the world, cocooned inside their steamy glass chamber. He’d held her wet body and made love to her against the wall because he couldn’t not. He was so very in love. And so was she.

The bartender was painfully slow, despite the vampire’s persistent glares. Spike watched a particularly stubborn sandy-haired bloke sit down on the stool beside Buffy. He was leaning close to her, attempting to say something clever and charming, but Buffy was looking at Spike. Her singular regard warmed him so much so that he almost didn’t notice when the bartender finally set down the drinks in front of him. He took them without thanks and glanced back at Buffy. She was saying something to her pursuer, but he couldn’t tell what.

Spike set the drinks on the table with a thud that spilled a bit of Buffy’s fruity concoction.

Buffy beamed, “Spike! This is Jeremy. Jeremy, this is Spike. Jeremy was just telling me how dangerous it is to be out and alone when you’re a pretty little girl like me.” 

“Jeremy’s no clue who he’s dealin’ with then. I’d sure love to see him try to be dangerous with you,” Spike said in a low tone, eyes never leaving the sandy-haired Jeremy. “Believe you’re in my seat, mate.”

“This your boyfriend?” Jeremy asked, looking appalled and confused.

Buffy sipped on the little red straw in her drink, “If by boyfriend you mean the guy who has fucked me about six times since this morning... yeah, that’s him.”

Jeremy looked at Spike skeptically, but had the good sense to get off the stool. Buffy descended into giggles as he slunk away into the crowd.

“Enjoy battin’ around your wee mouse, kitten?”

Buffy’s laughs petered out, “That was fun… _boyfriend_.”

Spike cocked his head, eyes alight and amused, “‘Boyfriend’ she says.”

She actually looked nervous, though she was clearly going for confident. Her eyes were in her drink.

“Well, yeah, I mean you have all your names for me. Don’t I get one for you? I like ‘boyfriend.’ Do you like it?”

He took a long, steady sip of his bourbon.

“I like the cute little smile on your face when you say it.”

Buffy looked up at him, rolling her eyes, “But really? Do you? You don’t have to.”

His stomach tumbled.

“‘Like’ doesn’t seem nearly an adequate word for how that makes me feel, Buffy.”

That seemed to ease her. She smiled happily and leaned forward on her elbows.

“Why did we come here again? You’re so far away and not inside me.”

Spike mirrored her, so they were both leaning over the table, their faces just inches apart. He stroked her forearm and looked up at her with a sultry, astounded face.

“Christ, Buffy, you’re gonna kill me if you keep talkin’ like that.”

She smiled devilishly and sighed, taking another sip of her pink drink.

“This is easier than I thought it would be.”

“Killin’ me? Yeah, I’m fairly helpless against you, slayer.”

She gave him a pointed look.

“ _Being_ with you. Just being and doing normal things. In the past, whenever I imagined us trying to really be a couple, I couldn’t picture it at all. I kind of had ‘normal’ with Riley I guess— definitely not Angel— and it was too hard to put you in Riley’s place. I knew you’d never be that kind of… boyfriend.”

There was that word again.

“Thank the good lord for that.”

She smiled a little in that restrained ‘can’t talk bad about my ex without sounding like a bitch’ kind of way that good girls like Buffy had.

“I know we’ll never be all ‘let’s go to the gumbo festival this weekend’ couple or doing laundry down at the laundromat together, but I really like this. Whatever it is.”

“I would do laundry with you. Eat gumbo, too, long as it’s done right.”

Buffy smiled, “I’m saying you don’t have to. I don’t expect that kind of stuff. You’re… _Spike_. You watch crappy TV and help me kill the bad guys and… and…”

Spike’s brows knit together and he found he was the one looking into his drink, spinning the amber liquid in circles with his glass.

“Surely that’s not all you think a future with me is? Soaps and killin’ things?”

“No! No, Spike, of course not,” she said in a voice that felt genuine, but a little panicked.

He looked up with one arched brow, “Then what do you picture? Not then, but now. What do you think life with me by your side, being your _boyfriend—_ what does that entail?”

Buffy looked off to the dance floor and then back to him. She’d pulled away from him and was sitting up straight on her stool again.

“Well,” she laughed nervously, fingering her glass. “Obviously, there will be lots and lots of yummy sex—”

“Don’t do that,” he snapped.

He shook his head and looked at the table, unable to bear her surprised doe eyes.

“Spike? I was just— ”

“Don’t reduce us to good fucking pals. Not again. I can’t take that, Buf—”

“I know! I’m not. I would never. Spike, please, look at me.”

He took a steadying, unnecessary breath and did as she asked. She looked truly pained. He imagined he did, too. His heart was in his throat and he knew if he spoke, she’d hear it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching across the table and touching his hand. “I _love_ you. I don’t love sex with you— well, I mean, I do. Of course. But that has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I didn’t cry myself to sleep for eighteen days because I was going to miss all the sex.”

Spike didn’t say anything.

Buffy went on determinedly, squeezing his hand, “I can’t tell you what our future looks like. I really just have no idea. I know that it won’t be normal. Things with us are never normal and I think I _like_ that. I’m not built for normal. I— I never know what’s going to happen with you, what you’ll do or say. Sometimes that drives me so crazy, but I think it’s just what I need. You’re what I need.”

He squeezed her hand back and bit his bottom lip.

“I like bein’ your right hand man, Buffy. I like fighting with you, sleeping with you… but I’ve had all that before. It’s— it’s the laundry I’m after. The morning after that big battle when you need your wounds tended. Buyin’ you things. Takin’ you out. That’s what I’m after here.”

“Me, too, Spike. I want that, too.” She sounded like she might cry. “I’m sorry. I say unbelievably stupid things sometimes. I’m very, _very_ bad at this. My heart’s not like yours. It makes me say the wrong things, not pretty things like you. But I want the laundry and the mornings, too. I do.”

Spike smiled hesitantly and resumed stroking her arm, bringing her fingers to his lips.

“I love you. You make me half-mad with loving you so much.”

Buffy looked relieved.

“Come on, boyfriend,” she said, standing up and taking off her jacket. “Dance with me. I like this song.”

He followed her to the floor. It was a slow, sultry tune that hardly registered even as they rocked to its beat. The other dancers were irrelevant. He kissed her deep and clung to her hips. This beautiful blonde creature of his was dancing in his arms, constantly assessing his face to make sure they were okay.

She cared, and that was as good a start as any.

*****

This thing was fragile, more fragile than she’d maybe realized. Her vampire was sensitive and she’d known that, sort of, but it had always annoyed her in the past. It had annoyed her that her words should mean so much to him, that he analyzed every little thing about her. It was something to be cherished now.

Dancing with him, she’d felt free. Womanly and coveted. Powerful in a way so different than she was used to. He was hers and he was trusting her not to hurt him too badly.

They fell back into bed that night, tipsy from the drinks and this honeymoon-type high. He was laughing and called her a wicked temptress as he pulled her clothes off, much faster this time.

Naked at last, they came together and Buffy could think of nothing else except how wonderful it was to surrender to him.

How did he make her feel both powerful and powerless, and make both feel so good?

She lay on her back as he thrusted into her, slapping his body against hers, piercing her eyes with his. He wasn’t laughing anymore.

Buffy moaned to his rhythm and gnawed at his neck. Kiss, bite, suck, kiss.

“You feel so good inside me, Spike. This is where we belong. You and me.”

He made a low, happy sound, squeezing her glutes, digging his black nails in.

“You are mine,” he growled.

He leered over her and she held his face, “Yes. And you’re mine.”

“No,” he said, kissing her and thrusting hard.

She moaned.

“No,” Spike repeated. “I think I’m not. Not yet. Your slave maybe. Your— boyfriend. Your vampire.”

She looked in his eyes and saw something broken there as he punctuated every sentence with his cock.

“Your soldier. Your protector. Your lover, yes.”

Buffy was panting and swirling in a cloud of pleasure and pain, “Why would you say— oh— why? Why would you say you’re not mine?”

Spike stilled his body, but caressed her lips with his hand, “Because there’s so much of me you don’t even know, love. You have to know all of me— like I know you— to own me.”

Buffy felt tears spring to her eyes. Far far too easily could he bring her to tears now.

“I know you, Spike. I know the things that matter. I know who you are. Even when you don’t. I know you.”

He moved within her again, making her cry out.

“Oh, sweet Buffy, you do and you don’t. Don’t fret, sweetheart. We have time now and I love you no matter what you say or do. I’ll make myself yours if it kills me.”

Buffy closed her eyes, “No killing. Don’t say that.”

Spike arched into her almost violently and she felt so laid bare by him tonight. She felt hot tears on her cheeks.

“Oh, Buffy,” he said, seeing her anguish. “Love, sweet love.”

Buffy rolled them with a grunt so that she was on top, “No. You don’t get to be sweet to me, not when you won’t be mine.”

“Sweethear—”

“No! Don’t _say_ that. Don’t say I don’t know you and then call me sweetheart. I know everything you’ve ever offered to me.”

She squeezed all her muscles and bore down with all her strength.

“You are _wrong_. You egotistical son of a bitch. You _are_ mine, Spike. It’s not your choice anymore. You offered yourself to me—” she dragged her fingernails down his chest and he grunted with pain. “A very long time ago. And you don’t get to take it back now that I want you, too.”

He was panting beneath her. He reached up to touch her face, but she took his wrists and held them above his head against the pillow.

Her lips were against his ear as she stretched over top of him. Her voice quivered with emotion. 

“Say you’re mine, you jerk.”

“I’m yours. Fuck, Buffy. I’m s—”

“Shut up,” she said, releasing his wrists and rising back up so she towered over him, her body a shadow against the city lights behind her. “You’re not allowed to say anything except that you’re mine. Got it?”

Spike knew better than to argue with her. She saw the submission in his eyes and he gave her a curt nod.

“Yours, love. All yours.”

Buffy nodded and rocked her hips, “Say it again, Spike.”

“I am yours.”

She closed her eyes and sighed with the relief of hearing it.

“Again.”

“Yours. I’m yours.”

She took his hands, still lying helplessly up above his head, and placed them on her hips. He clung tight to her.

“Yours and only yours, Buffy. I’ll never not be yours.”

He murmured his consolations over and over until she collapsed onto his chest, shaking with release and unspent tears.

“Didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetheart. I love you so. I'm a stupid sod. I shouldn’t’ve…”

Buffy hugged him and kissed his sharp collar bone.

She sat up and stretched herself out onto all fours, looking over her shoulder at him. Beckoning.

“You’re not finished, Spike. Make me yours now.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is completely written (as you know) and yet I still felt the need to give it a new banner. I have issues, but whatever, it's pretty.

They woke up in each other’s arms to the sound of Buffy’s phone ringing again.

“You’d think the battery would be dead by now,” Buffy grumbled, nuzzling her head into Spike’s shoulder.

Spike groaned with the bear-ish sound of disturbed sleep, “Perhaps you have to use it on occasion to kill the battery.”

“Mmm, maybe.”

The ringing stopped and Buffy sighed. Her arm was wrapped around his stomach. He kissed the top of her head. Light peeked through the curtains enough to indicate that it was morning.

“I’m not ready,” she said, looking at her phone on the table.

“Have to leave this room some time.”

Spike stroked her hair, eyes shut.

“Do we? I’m not the only slayer anymore. Dawn’s my responsibility, but what else? We could run away together. Go live on an island somewhere and sell mangoes.”

“You really think you can walk away from your sacred duty?”

Buffy caressed him absently and said in a soft, defeated voice, “I don’t know.”

Spike rolled so that he was on top of her and slipped his cock inside her without words or ceremony. She gasped and released a soft “oh.”

It was a lazy, effortless joining. Their hands moved slowly over top each other’s skin, eyes locked on one another. Each sound and shifting of the sheets seemed louder now in the sleepy morning stillness than it had last night. Buffy sighed and moaned and opened her legs wider as he kissed her.

“Want you to know I’m not a factor… in what you do next,” he said, still rocking against her and kissing her between utterances. “Whatever you do, whatever you decide, I’ll be by your side.”

“Yes, you will,” she said without hesitancy.

Spike smiled and stilled briefly, “I’m very sorry about what I said last night, love. Was a bit off my bird.”

Buffy ran one hand up his back and clutched him by his adorable sex-mussed hair.

“I’m sorry, too.”

He shook his head beneath her grip and kissed her as he resumed his thrusting, “Sweet girl.”

Buffy arched up to meet him more forcefully, but he grasped her hips and pressed them down to the mattress.

“There’s no hurry, love. I will see to you all morning if you wish it. I’ll keep your sweet quim wet and achin’ all the rest of your life if you let me. Not goin’ anywhere.”

He moved his mouth to her breasts and smothered them with love and Buffy trembled beneath his adorations.

“It’s too good,” she muttered. “It’s too good.”

“Nothing is too good for you, darling. Nothing.”

*****

Buffy held the phone in her hands, staring at it for a long moment. He was watching her, propped up against the headboard, naked and nursing a cup of steaming tea. They’d ordered breakfast. Well, breakfast for her and tea for him. They’d made love, restored their strength, and now there was little else to do to put off the inevitable. 

She leaned back beside him so she was against the headboard as well, pulling the sheets up around her to stay warm.

“Here goes.”

She flipped the phone open and dialed.

Dawn’s voice sounded amused, “Up for air are we? How _is_ the sex marathon going?”

Tea cup to his lips, Spike snorted and grinned as Buffy fumbled for a response. Stupid vampire hearing.

“Uh, how... did you…?”

“I’m not an idiot, Buffy. Also not a kid anymore— something you and everyone seem to need daily reminding of. I talked to Willow and put the oh so mysterious pieces of the puzzle together that you and Spike ran off together to _play checkers_.”

Buffy glanced at Spike, secretly amused by his delight. “Right, well, I guess you cracked the case.”

“So,” Dawn said, drawing out the word. “How are you?”

Buffy shrugged, despite Dawn being unable to see her, and replied in a high voice, “Oh, you now… Spike’s very good at checkers.”

Spike laughed at that and placed his cup on the nightstand, kissing and licking her breast. She pushed his face away and gave him a stern look.

“Gross, but uh yeah, I’m sure he is…” Dawn responded. “So since he’s obviously sitting right there, toss him the phone.”

“Huh?”

“I want to talk to him. Give him the phone.”

Buffy scrunched her face up, “Why?”

“Just give it to him, Buffy!”

She rolled her eyes and handed Spike the phone. He didn’t seem to find it strange at all that her little sister wanted to talk with him.

“Hey, little bit,” he said in a low, patient tone.

Buffy couldn’t hear Dawn’s side of the conversation, so she watched Spike’s face carefully. His eyes never left hers and his mouth would smile and fall as Dawn went on in whatever it was she was saying to him.

“You know how real it is,” he said quietly. “Better than anyone, pet, you know.”

Buffy was confused by that, but he just smiled warmly in response to her wrinkled brow.

“I know that, too. You don’t have to tell me… I know, dove,” he paused and waited while she spoke. “It’s all right. Get it off your chest now.”

Buffy had the strange urge to get up and leave him to this conversation. His gravity made it feel private. She sat up and swung her legs to the side of the bed but he snatched her hand smoothly before she could leave. When she looked back at him he shook his head gently, his gaze far off, his mind with her sister. She did as he wished though and let him pull her back so her head rested on his bare thigh. His free hand caressed her hair as the conversation went on.

“It’s not gonna be that way,” Spike said. “She’s not. We’re not… No, pigeon, just let that go, all right? I know your heart’s in the right place and you’re right to push it, but things are different now. Me, her. Everything’s different now.”

Buffy idly ran her hand up and down his leg, feeling the hairs and smooth skin.

“I will. You’re a good girl… Dunno, that’s a question for your sis… I will.”

He handed her the phone again and Buffy put it to her ear, the one that wasn’t pressed against his leg.

“You done interrogating my boyfriend?”

Dawn laughed, “Spike’s your boyfriend. Wow. Never thought I’d hear that. And no, I’m probably _not_ done, but it was a good start.”

“You’re stubborn. And overprotective. Oh, and bossy.”

“Gee, where’d I pick that stuff up? So when are you coming home— er, back?”

Buffy sighed and rolled a bit so that she was looking up at Spike, the back of her head still rested on his thigh.

“I don’t know. I… I need to talk to Giles and Willow. We kind of disappeared on them and I’m not sure what they’re up to. Or wait, are they in England? Did they leave? God, how long have we been in this hotel?”

She looked at Spike for that question and he shrugged, his attention focused on her blonde locks.

“I’ll let you know when I know. Are you and Xander doing okay?”

“We’ve had some meetings with the council about the slayer training facility you were talking about. They like the idea, but I’m not so sure they take me and Xander as seriously as the rest of you. Seems like superpowers are a necessity to get a little respect around here.”

“I respect you, Dawn.”

Dawn laughed, “Okay, you are _weird_ when you’re happy. You’re happy aren’t you?”

Buffy looked at Spike and smiled, “Dangerously so.”

“I’m really glad, Buffy. Really. Call me when you next get a chance.”

“I will. Bye, Dawn.”

Buffy closed the phone and closed her eyes for a moment. She opened them again and looked up at Spike.

“So. You ready to jump back into the fire, boyfriend?”

“Does said fire involve a hellmouth?”

“Not this time.”

“Will you be there?”

“Absolutely.”

He grinned and tilted his head in that way he had.

“Then I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

*****

Buffy and Spike’s reappearance at Wolfram and Hart certainly raised some heads. Everyone had become more or less complacent about the ghostly vampire in leather stalking the hallways, grumbling and shouting at random. Seeing him with the slayer— _the_ slayer— walking confidently by his side was a whole different thing.

People got out of their way.

And Harmony really didn’t look pleased to see them when they reached her desk.

“Whatever you guys are pissed about, do _not_ take it out on any doors this time. We just got this one fixed and I’m sick of dealing with the repairman. His name is Tony and he is very icky and stares at me all creepily and I don’t think it should have taken him so long to fix the door as it did, but I guess I shouldn’t’ve worn that pink halter or maybe he just shouldn’t have been a skeezebag— “ she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Wait. What are you doing here?”

Buffy and Spike exchanged glances.

Buffy spoke, “Have you seen Willow or Giles?”

Harmony looked simultaneously bored and irritated by the question, “Yeah they’ve been _around_ , but I don’t know where they are right _now_.”

“Is Angel in there?” she gestured to his door.

“Yeah.”

Buffy looked to Spike who nodded begrudgingly.

“Wait a minute,” Harmony said, standing up. “Is it true you guys are like actually a couple now? People have been talking and—”

“ _Goodbye_ , Harm!” Spike said, shoving Angel’s door open and walking in.

“That is freaky and _unnatural_ , just so you both know!” she shouted, leaning over her desk and glaring at them both as they disappeared into Angel’s office.

*****

Angel didn’t exactly seem surprised to see them, but certainly not pleased. He stood up immediately, face awash with a blend of irritation and caution as he walked around to the side of his executive desk.

“Was wondering if we’d see either of you again,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets uncomfortably.

“Miss me?” Spike said with a grin, making himself at home and perching himself on the edge of the desk.

Angel rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Buffy who stood between them both with her arms folded across her chest guardedly.

“We just need to find Giles and Willow. Figured they’d be hanging around here. Do you know what they’re up to?”

“Ah, so that’s the only reason you’re both standing here in my office?”

Buffy looked up at the ceiling with an exasperated sigh, “Why else would we be here, Angel?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask the big neon grin on Spike’s face right now?”

Spike did look highly entertained, but his face turned to a look of shock and outrage at that.

“I have no earthly idea what you’re on about, mate.”

Angel turned his back to them and looked out the window.

“They’ve been hanging around Fred and Wesley a lot. Check the lab or the research department.”

“Thanks,” Buffy said.

“‘ _She will never want you, Spike! How delusional are you? You’re a_ monster,’” Spike said with a dark look in his eyes. “You remember sayin’ that, peaches? Wasn’t that long ago.”

Buffy glared at Spike, “Okay, we are so not doing _that_. Let’s just go—”

Spike stood up and put himself between Angel and the window. Angel was staring at the younger vampire, eyes boiling with contained emotion.

“‘ _You will never be good enough for her and you will only bring her down and cause her pain_ ,’” Spike continued quoting, practically vibrating with energy.

“ _Spike_!”

They both ignored Buffy.

Angel glared and stepped in close so his face was only inches from Spike’s.

“You’ve yet to prove me wrong on that last part.”

“Yeah?” Spike challenged, stepping even closer. “You think so highly of her that you think my wicked influence’ll ruin her? You pathetic, half-cocked bloody wanker. You worship at the altar of Buffy but treat her like a helpless schoolgirl with weak knees who can’t make her own bloody decisions to save her li— ”

Buffy punched Spike in the shoulder. Hard.

“Ow!” he yelled, glaring at her and clutching his shoulder.

She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from Angel.

“Are you kidding me with the chest-puffing right now? Do you think this is sexy and macho or something? Because it’s really _really_ not.”

Spike looked away but said nothing.

“It’s fine,” Angel said, crossing his arms. “Spike’s always had something to prove to me. Inferiority complex or something. Why should this be any different?”

“‘Least I don’t have to stack the corpses of the innocent to gain your approval these days.”

“Enough!” Buffy snapped, glaring from one vampire to the other. “Look, you two. We’re going to be dealing with each other for— god knows how long. I refuse to have you two bickering and sniping at each other any time we’re in the same room. You are grown men. You _should_ have the maturity of centuries between you. Stop acting like moronic children and stop making me feel like your mother because it’s really not fun.”

Angel grumbled, “He started it.”

“I _certainly_ don’t treat you like my mother,” Spike added lasciviously.

Buffy rolled her eyes, “You’re both hopeless. Come on, Spike, we are _so_ leaving.”

Angel groaned and looked up at the ceiling.

“Wait.” He looked back at them both begrudgingly. “There’s kind of a situation… I think you might want to deal with, or at least know about. I’m happy to do it myself—”

“Situation? I’m so tired of situations. I am _done_ with situations. How many more situations can there possibly _be_? I will tell you right now, I am _not_ helping,” she shook her head with resigned frustration and scrunched her eyes shut. “ _What kind of a situation_?”

Angel strummed his fingers against one leg and eyed her warily, “Kind of a rogue psychotic slayer who’s murdering people type situation?”

Buffy looked at Spike painfully, then crossed her arms.

“Damn it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comments are the best! <3


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